


Coniunctionem Vitæ, Amoris, rutrum et

by st_valentinus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_valentinus/pseuds/st_valentinus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as 'The Sherlock Holmes and Jane Dunn Collection' or 'The Joining of Life, Love, and Career'. This is a set of multiple one-shots all revolved around the infamous Sherlock Holmes and his growing relationship with the interesting and secretive Jane Dunn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Contra improviso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was the relationship like between Sherlock Holmes and Jane Dunn when they first met...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is probably the best series I've ever written-- maybe I've written better in the actually context of writing, but I personally enjoy these many one-shots that are to come more than all my other work. I know that often times stories that are including a romance with an original character aren't as popular, but I don't really need that popularity if I'm happy with the work I've done. So, I hope you readers also enjoy what I am presenting to you.

Jane never expected to find herself in London; she didn’t think she’d ever be working in London. Yet here she was. After Johnson at the Liverpool station insisted to his friends working in London (who didn’t like the idea of working with Jane and her methods of solving a crime), she was offered the chance to work a case so they could see if Jane was as good as they were told. This came as a surprise to Jane, and at first she was very reluctant to take the offer—after all, just going to Liverpool from Dublin was a stretch for her—but, eventually, she took it, leading her where she was now.

Jane watched officers move across the crime scene rapidly trying to find evidence and clues or get rid of the reporters. As she watched, Jane studied the different people around her and also observed the crime scene; she was already working without having talked to anyone from the police.

“Excuse me, miss.” A voice said from behind her. A man with dark hair and an annoyed expression stood there, “You can’t be here; I need to ask you to leave the crime scene.” Jane raised an eyebrow before swiftly turning to walk closer to the scene, “Hey! Excuse me!” The man followed her.

“Where’s Lestrade?” Jane asked as she looked around.

“That’s none of your—”

“Never mind.” Jane spotted a man with grey hair, an expensive suit, and a stressed look. He was barking orders as he walked around, trying to get any information the others had found—it had to be Lestrade. Without any care for the annoyed man following her, Jane made her way around the rush of police and investigators to reach Lestrade, “Inspector Lestrade.” Jane stood a few feet from him. Lestrade turned around and looked her up and down curiously.

“And you are?” He asked as he put his hands in his trouser pockets.

“Jane Dunn.” She replied. After a few moments, Lestrade recognized the name and his expression brightened up while still looking at her curiously (he expected her to look _a little_ more professional than she appeared).

“Oh, Ms. Dunn, from Dublin.” Jane nodded as she gave the other man a smug look. In response, he huffed and walked away, “We could have used you a bit sooner.” Jane shrugged.

“My plane was behind schedule,” She replied, “but I can get started now.” Lestrade turned slightly.

“Just follow me.” Jane walked quickly with Lestrade toward a few investigators working around a couple of dead bodies.

_‘Both mid-thirties.’_ Jane noted quickly as she and Lestrade came closer.

“So, uh, how exactly do you work?” Lestrade questioned as he looked back at Jane; he sounded as if he almost expected a strange response, as if it was near normal to be around a unique form of investigation.

“You’ll just have to find out.” She replied with a grin as she knelt by the first body—a female. There was blood splattered across her form, but few wounds could be seen. Jane looked back up at Lestrade, “Gloves.” He nodded and disappeared quickly before he came back with a pair of rubber gloves for her. Jane snapped them on before carefully lifting up the arm of the body in front of her, examining it conscientiously, and then dropping it back to the ground. With a slight exertion of effort, Jane lifted the body enough to take a quick look at its side and its back, “The blood on this person isn’t from any of their wounds; this is someone else’s blood.” Lestrade gave her a surprised look.

“And how exactly would you know that?” Jane rolled her eyes; she expected he’d be a bit more observant for an _inspector_.

“Well, first off, this blood is splattered _everywhere_ , and I’m pretty sure we’re not in a horror film where blood just shoots all over as if from a water gun.” She said sarcastically, causing Lestrade to sigh.

“Okay, fine, just get on with it.”

“And these injuries on the front look too clean.” Jane pointed at a knife wound near the collar bone, “Here it looks as if it’s older and blood isn’t coming from the wound.” Lestrade knelt next to Jane to get a better look, “So, I’m assuming that these people were dead before they were brought here. Then, when they were brought here, someone else’s blood was spilt all over these victims; the killer could be leaving hints or clues with that.”

“Such as?” Jane shook her head and stood.

“I have no idea, but now that you know this much, find out whose blood this _really_ is and go from there—we might have a serial killer on our hands.”

Lestrade also stood and he then stared in front of them. Jane’s gaze followed his trail of sight toward the same annoying man from earlier, but now he was talking with two new men, neither of which looked to be investigators or police. The shorter one had light hair and a flustered while also serious expression. The man beside him, though, is what really caught Jane’s eye. He stood at over six feet (Jane guessed based on comparison to other people around her) and had dark, curling hair that gazed his forehead, with stunning eyes looking around the scene with a serious, analytical gaze. Once he made eye contact with Jane, the two stopped. The two made assumption after assumption of the other while everyone else went about doing their jobs. Jane had no idea who this man could be, but she had a feeling that he was important and that he had a better understanding of… well, _everything_ as compared to everyone else here.

“Who is that?” Jane asked Lestrade, still watching the dark man as he and his companion walked toward the bodies.

“That,” Lestrade said with a sigh, “is Sherlock Holmes.” Jane raised an eyebrow, urging Lestrade to elaborate, “I called him here to help with the case.” Jane looked back at this Sherlock Holmes as he approached them, “And his assistant, Doctor Watson.”

“What exactly do they do, then?”

“Consulting Detective.” Sherlock said, being close enough in ear range to hear her question. Jane quickly looked to the detective.

“Consulting Detective? Did you come up with that one?” She questioned with an amused look; she was very curious about this new man on the scene.

“Yes, actually, and please, enlighten us on who you are.” Jane looked him up and down.

“Jane Dunn, I work with the Dublin and Liverpool police forces.” She replied and put a hand comfortably in the pocket of her leather jacket.

“So, you’re a police officer?” Doctor Watson asked her, not wanting to believe that statement as he looked at her.

“No.” Both she and Sherlock answered. Jane gave him a look.

“She does work similar to Sherlock’s.” Lestrade jumped back into the conversation, “Maybe not exactly like Sherlock, but it’s the same general idea.” Both Jane and Sherlock didn’t like the idea of being categorized with the other, as they felt the work they did was related only to themselves individually, it was unique to them separately.

“In that case, what do you have thus far on this couple dead on the ground.” Sherlock asked without looking away from Jane. She held his gaze just as firmly.

“They’ve been dead for much longer than the police originally guessed. That blood on their bodies isn’t their own, but someone or something else’s, as it doesn’t appear to be coming from any of the wounds and doesn’t even come near some.” She replied. The two watched each other carefully for a few more moments before Sherlock turned back to the dead bodies and began examining them. Jane watched him for a few more moments before turning to Watson and looking him up and down.

“Will I be encountering you two in the future?” She asked with a bit of a small grin; she could tell this man was kind hearted and it was very difficult for her to want to be rude like she often was with people.

“ _Oh yes.”_ He responded with a chuckle. Jane let out a light laugh.

“Well, isn’t that fantastic.” She said sarcastically and turned back to Sherlock, who was now having a conversation with Lestrade and another investigator. She looked at Watson, “I have work to do, so I’ll be off now.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Dunn.” He replied and put his hand out for her to shake. Jane gave it a skeptical look (that Watson didn’t miss) before carefully shaking it. She swiftly walked toward an investigator to get some more personally information on the couple before disappearing to her hotel.

*************************

When Jane went back to see Inspector Lestrade the next day with news on the crime (she stayed up for hours on end trying to solve this case), she didn’t expect to find that the case had already been solved. Rarely could anyone figure out a crime like this in such a short time frame; Jane didn’t think she would have figured it all out in one night. But it was proven to her that she was no longer the only one around with a powerful brain that could evaluate the seemingly impossible and make it possible.

What Jane also didn’t expect was Sherlock Holmes to be brought up again so soon. When she had gone to the police station with that successfully smug expression on her face, Lestrade already knew what she was there for. And he never let her say a word of it (which, quite frankly, riled Jane up). Before she could even begin to say _‘I’ve figured it all out,’_ Lestrade found the simplest way to put a damper on Jane’s mood.

“The case is already solved.” With that, Jane’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You think your police force really—”

“It wasn’t us.” Jane didn’t take well to being interrupted; her day wasn’t going at all according to plan.

“Holmes.” Jane hissed out. Lestrade couldn’t help but let a small grin tug at his lips.

“I’m afraid you’re not the only independent investigator that has a handle on how to solve a case.” Jane stared silently at the Inspector’s desk for a few moments before quickly looking up at him.

“Is there another case I could have?” Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you’d be eager to get back to Liverpool.” Jane’s jaw clenched.

“I’d rather be back in Dublin, but tell me, Inspector, is there another case you could give to me? And none of that mediocre crap, I want something good.” Lestrade let out a sigh as he rubbed his forehead.

“I can’t just go handing out crimes left and right; technically, I’m not allowed to be doing this. I have nothing for you, but if I stumbled upon something that my police force can’t solve properly—”

“You can’t solve anything properly.” Jane had her arms crossed as she leaned on the edge of the desk. Lestrade gave her a hard look.

“I will get you something else, but not now.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Jane stood to begin leaving the building in an angry huff, “And don’t put _Mr. Holmes_ on this next one.”

So, when the next case that called for extra help came around, Lestrade turned to Jane first in fear of how she would respond if she discovered Sherlock took it instead (and Lestrade had a good feeling Jane would have found that out). Not so lucky for Lestrade, though, was when Sherlock learnt Jane was given a case that would have regularly gone to him. To say the least, Sherlock was upset; he was even more upset when he discovered she had solved it and had done a damn good job of it before he could even lift a finger. This new woman got under Sherlock’s skin; why was she here taking all of _his_ work and fun?

Sherlock warned Lestrade to not give another case to Jane and rather send her home, but Lestrade found some good humour in seeing these two despise each other when they only ever communicated once. They may have learned a lot about each other quickly, but that didn’t mean they actually _knew_ each other enough.

Lestrade began sending both detectives on the same cases and the results where almost 50/50—Sherlock was fast, but Jane had resources. Sherlock was blunt and controlling, Jane was stealth and scheming. Each had perfect aspects of a perfect detective. But they couldn’t stand how the other got in their way. The two would never interact—they never really needed to—until one big case.

This case brought them to the same place at the same time. The two were distracted by the other’s presence at first, but neither expected for them to work so well together…

_When Sherlock ran into a dark, empty building he had his mind set on catching the criminal who he knew was hiding here. Once inside, he was up the stairs in a flash, but when he reached his destination, Sherlock froze in his path._

_Jane was here._

_She stood ten feet away with her back turned to him, facing a tall, but fearful looking man while she held a gun firmly in her grip (though it was more to scare the man rather than actually harm him). Jane heard Sherlock’s steps and glanced over her shoulder; when her eyes landed on his form, they widened._

_“Took you long enough, Holmes.” She said smoothly, covering up any surprise that expressed itself in her face. Sherlock gave her a small grin._

_“I’ve just called the police.” He replied while walking closer. Jane turned to him enough to still see the criminal in her peripheral vision._

_“I informed them a half hour ago and insisted they left fifteen minutes after my call; they were already on their way as I was.” She retorted. Sherlock’s jaw clenched._

_“I know that this man has guards hidden throughout the place and outside, waiting for him to signal them to attack.” He looked for a change in Jane’s expression, but found none._

_“Then they should come out to play.” Jane said simply, giving a look to the frightened man who was watcher her gunpoint. Shakily, the man pulled his phone from his pocket and pushed a button. A moment later, heavy footsteps were heard around the building and a few men came into the room hurriedly. Jane merely grinned as she looked back to Sherlock, “Showtime.” With that, she stood defensively and waited for one of the large idiots to strike._

_Sherlock suddenly realized something. He wasn’t sure why it happened now rather than earlier—it would have been nice to realize this a few weeks ago when Jane first become a problem in his career—but he finally acknowledged that Jane was smart, capable, and (he hated to admit) could probably fight better than he. In that moment, Sherlock began seeing Jane as his equal. She had succeeded so much in their little unspoken game, and it finally hit Sherlock that Jane was similar to him in more ways than one. In that run-down building, while they were fighting off large goons and getting the man to admit to everything he had done while also explaining the loose ends, Sherlock realized that they could be a team. He was not one to work in a team of equals, but Jane was… something._

_If separately they could achieve so much, the things that could be done while together would be spectacular._

_Jane also came to terms with this thought while spending that time with Sherlock at that crime scene. She finally admitted to herself that Sherlock wasn’t just an annoying man, but he was an annoying detective that could do everything she could, if not more (though she would never word this thought)._

_Though all this was, to say the least, unexpected, the pair knew working together could only make them better._


	2. Non vocant Amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Sherlock Holmes and Jane Dunn, the 14th of February was nothing but another day at work or that's what it was supposed to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'll say this now before I forget to later: these one-shots are not written in the order in which I am posting them. This was originally the first piece that I ever wrote about Sherlock and Jane, and all the others followed. Of course, once I had about ten (give or take) one-shots written, I created a timeline of events and when I believe each event occurred. So, I am posting one-shots based on that timeline.

Sherlock and Jane rounded the corner swiftly, feet skidding to keep their balance as their hair flew around them in the rough, end-of-winter wind while they pushed through arrays of people. The breathes coming from their drying lips was heavy and shaking; they had to keep moving quickly and find a safe halting point, for they had been running for much too long. The two could hear the couple of burly men following behind them, catching up quickly for their rough and broad-built bodies. Sherlock analyzed the predicament, eying the street quickly and coming to a conclusion before he grabbed Jane’s elbow and pulled her to the side and into an alleyway before he continued to move, though at a slower pace. Jane gave the tall man a puzzled look.

“Because hiding in an alley will _definitely_ help us; it _always_ does in the movies.” She muttered sarcastically as she followed Sherlock, who gave her a hard side glance in response. Jane checked over her shoulder; she couldn’t see the men, but she had a good feeling she and Sherlock wouldn’t be found soon.

“Soon, when they realize they are no longer chasing us, they will take only a few moments to look around before giving up—you and I both observed that these are _pathetic, lazy_ men. Once they give up, we’ll follow them—they’ll lead us straight to either a hide out or their employer.” Sherlock had just a whisper of a grin on his lips. Jane let out a sigh as she came to a stop, causing Sherlock to halt with her.

“Really, Holmes? We have to follow them for an answer to this crime?” She asked as she fixed her leather jacket. Jane had no more motivation to catch the gang of killers, as this was not a day she wanted to spend running around, even if with Sherlock, “I really don’t see the point; you’ll figure it all out without having to follow them anywhere.” Sherlock stared emotionless at the woman before him, who leaned against the old brick wall.

“You always enjoy the chase, though.” Sherlock replied. Jane crossed her arms.

“Holmes, I—” Sherlock’s eyes suddenly brightened.

“Hold that thought.” Sherlock dashed away suddenly, causing Jane to sigh; she expected that to happen, but not as late as it did. With an annoyed but slight eye roll, Jane pushed herself off the wall with the toe of her boot and jogged out to begin looking for her… “partner in crime.” She just caught sight of his coat tails rounding the corner and began jogging again, hoping to catch up to Sherlock. Sherlock, realizing that Jane was close, spoke without looking to her, “Call Lestrade, tell him to go to the Palace of Westminster.” Jane raised an eyebrow.

“Palace of Westminster?” Jane never got a reply (she didn’t expect to with the state Sherlock was in), so she pulled out her mobile to make the call. Lestrade answered quickly, but never got the chance to speak, “Palace of Westminster, don’t ask questions, just get there quick.” Jane hung up the phone. Sherlock was quick, making it difficult for Jane’s short legs to keep up with him, “Stupid detective…”

*********************

“Please, Holmes, explain how you knew a member of _Parliament_ was behind those murders.” Jane insisted as she walked with Sherlock down the dark street; they were part of the few people out at this hour, bit it was typical for the pair. Sherlock was smirking, but never spoke, “Come on, Holmes, I know you, and you always like to explain to people how in God’s name you figure things out.” Again, he didn’t reply, causing Jane to rub her forehead as she exhaled roughly, “Why am I the only person you never explain anything to?”

“Because I know you’re one of the only people clever enough to figure it out on your own.” Sherlock looked down at Jane who groaned with an eye roll.

“Wonderful…” Sherlock had a smile in his eyes, teasing to reach his lips.

“You mutter a lot, you know.” Sherlock started. Jane knew he was about the start telling her all the reasons why she often muttered, so she put her hand in front of his lips—just hovering over the skin—as she stopped walking and came to stand in front of him.

“Don’t even start.” She said as she tried to hide her amused smirk; sometimes, Sherlock’s rambling amused her in a way that it bothered others, but she didn’t want to hear any of it tonight—it had been a _long_ day. Sherlock stared down at her before he gave a small grin behind Jane’s hand.

“Fine, I guess I won’t.” Sherlock stepped around Jane and continued walking with his hands casually held together behind his back. Jane stood confused for a few moments before she found her way back to his side.

“Well, that’s a surprise; you usually would just ignore someone telling you to stop talking.” She said as if she wasn’t bothered by it and pulled the zipper of her jacket up all the way to protect herself from the breeze.

“Well, knowing you, there’s a good chance you’d get aggressive just to shut me up. Also, I need to find enjoyment in something and I’ve noticed that getting you riled up brings me some great amusement.” Sherlock glanced down at his companion who looked at the ground with a slight glare.

“Just because I come off as the aggressive type,” Jane brought attention to her attire, consisting of leather and heavy boots, dark make-up and tattoos—a look that generally intimidated people, “doesn’t mean I am.” Now, Sherlock grinned.

“Don’t lie to yourself; I’ve seen your violent nature before during cases, your looks aren’t just for show.” He replied. Jane sighed.

“Fine, you got me there, but I wouldn’t hit you.” She replied.

“You don’t have to hit me; you could kick, punch, shove, thr—”

“Sherlock!” Sherlock stopped walking and stared jarringly. Jane, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, looked at her hands, “What?”

“You used my first name.” Sherlock was _caught_ _off guard_ , which, as everyone knew, didn’t happen often.

“And…?” Jane asked with a slight blush tinting her cheeks; she realized what she had done and exactly what it meant.

“You’ve never used my first name before.” He elaborated, before giving Jane a cheeky look, “So, I can conclude that by using my—”

“Jesus, Sherlock, just shut up.” Jane stood in front of him once more. Sherlock merely grinned down at her, “I don’t need you to tell me.” The two stared at each other, the wind pushing around them in the terribly lit street.

“…You trust me.” Sherlock spoke, causing Jane to groan and pinch the bridge of her nose. She began to step away from him, “You finally feel that you can trust me on a more personal level, rather than the business level you tend to comfortably stick to with everyone.” Jane was listening to him, even if it appeared as if she was ignoring Sherlock entirely. After a few moments she turned back to him.

“So close, Sherlock.” She said while squinting slightly and pressing her finger and thumb together. Now, Sherlock gave her a confused look, though he quickly tried to mask it.

“Close, hmm? Care to explain?” Jane grinned and shook her head then spun on her heels to begin walking from him. Sherlock’s eyebrows knitted together; what had he gotten wrong? “Jane…” He slowly followed behind her.

“Yes, Mr. Holmes?” She asked in a bit of a mocking tone.

“Jane, elaborate on what I missed.” Sherlock knew Jane was grinning as he watched the back of her head and her dyed hair slowly blowing behind her.

“I’d like to turn in for the night; it’s been a very eventful day for me, and I’m quite tired.” Sherlock could hear her straining to use this mocking tone—she was nervous behind this façade. About what?

Sherlock could use that to his advantage.

He walked a bit faster to catch up to Jane and when he was close enough he pulled Jane by the elbow and waist toward him, surprising her. Jane looked up at him as she balanced herself, holding onto his arm for help while he removed his hands from her frame, “You’re lucky I haven’t flipped you to the ground yet.” She said; she always threatened to use martial arts when she felt uncomfortable. Sherlock grinned.

“You wouldn’t anyway.” Jane gave him a look, as if testing him, “Jane…” he said quietly as he looked to her mismatched green and brown eyes, “What did I get wrong?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Jane spoke in a lighter tone, “You, after all, are the _great_ Sherlock Holmes.” His gaze softened, but became rough again in confusion as Jane’s hands settled on the base of his neck. She was very close; it wasn’t that it made Sherlock uncomfortable, but this never happened, making it an odd situation.

“And if I decided I didn’t want to figure it out?” Sherlock questioned, causing Jane to grin; he _wanted_ to figure it out, they both knew it.

“Even if you didn’t want to, you would… I didn’t think you were capable of asking silly questions.” Jane took a small step closer, and Sherlock continued to wonder why she was behaving the way she was, “And now you’ve proven me wrong.”

“Then I guess I’ll try my hardest to refrain from asking you a silly question again.” Sherlock said in a slow tone. Jane quirked her eyebrow as she tried to think of what could possibly be going through the mysterious man’s head. Jane’s mind began to wander as she watched Sherlock, who looked back at her with a straight face.

“Sherlock…” Jane started, making the man grin.

“There you go with the first name again.” Jane rolled her eyes, “I quite like it.”

“You talk too much, you know that?” She gave a small smile in his direction.

“But I think you enjoy it.” Jane looked at her feet as a blush crept up her neck.

“You’ve got me there…” She muttered and, with her hands on his neck, brought his face lower; Jane was one of the only people who could surprise Sherlock at all, and this behaviour, this closeness, was one of those surprising acts. His stature became stiff, causing Jane to giggle, “Something bothering you? You feel tense.” Sherlock glared lightly.

“What are you trying to do? If its distract me, then it isn’t working; you know it won’t.” Jane smirked at him.

“I know that distractions don’t work.” She replied, “I’m just… having a bit of fun.” As she said this (or rather asked it, as she even seemed unsure of what she was doing), Jane leaned in toward Sherlock, “But I can promise I’m not exactly up to anything good.”

“You never are.” Sherlock mumbled as he watched Jane carefully; she looked away from his eyes—to his pink lips. Sherlock wanted to respond—push her away, yell at her—but he was frozen to his spot as he watched her close the gap between the two.

Jane’s lips met Sherlock’s hesitantly; she was always confident, and this sense of nervousness was new to her. It was also new to Sherlock, who just stood as Jane slowly moved her mouth. Sherlock noted her lips were soft, slightly moist—from when she licked her lips a few moments ago—and seemed to know what they were doing, though she was obviously holding back. Sherlock closed his eyes, much to his own surprise. He felt that he was no longer in control of himself as the arm that formerly was lightly holding Jane’s waist went back and tightened its hold as compared to previously. Sherlock began to kiss back, somewhat sloppily at first, but Jane didn’t pull away, making him believe he was doing _something_ right, or on the verge of it.

Then, Jane’s tongue licked Sherlock’s lower lip, taking him aback slightly, but he held his composure and quickly opened his mouth, aggressively meeting Jane’s tongue with his own, because _damn_ it felt good. A moan escaped Jane’s throat, causing her neck and ears to redden as Sherlock tried to hold back a smile while both his arms pressed Jane’s body to his. Sherlock quickly stood to his full height, surprising Jane who stood on her toes to try to keep their lips attached, but gave up as it seemed Sherlock was trying to lift her feet of the ground. She let her feet leave the pavement, pulling them up as her arms tightened around his neck for support to keep their kiss going.

Sherlock’s mind suddenly began to reel; _what was he doing?_ Sherlock was definitely not the type to do this, but something about it felt… right? No, not right, but it felt fantastic; this kiss didn’t mean anything romantically for Sherlock, he knew it didn’t mean too much to Jane either, but he was enjoying it more than he believed he should have. But now he felt more human than he had before, because he felt lust. That’s exactly it; he was full of lust and he was acting in response to that. There was a hunger he hadn’t felt before and he enjoyed it.

After a few more moments, Sherlock reluctantly pulled his lips away, realizing all that was happening. A frown met Jane’s expression as her feet met the ground again and she leaned toward his face for a moment, before she pulled a few inches back, hands still firmly placed on Sherlock’s neck. Jane stared at his chest to avoid eye contact, breathing heavily through her mouth as Sherlock pulled himself together quickly. He removed his arms from Jane’s form, but he didn’t step away.

“What the hell was that about?” He finally asked. A small chuckle came from Jane.         

“You really are full of questions, Sherlock.” She replied, “What happened to your—what was it, mind palace? You don’t need to ask to figure things out.” Jane looked up shyly through her eyelashes at Sherlock’s calculating face; he had only ever seen her with confidence or aggression, never like this hesitant girl before him.

“Maybe I just want to hear the answer come straight from your mouth.” He replied and gave Jane a small grin.

“You’re much too fond of your own voice to have me answer.” She replied as her grin settled down to a small, closed mouth smile.

“Even so, sometimes I want to be told the answer I already know; it makes me confident that others have the slightest clue what they’re talking about.” Sherlock tilted his head slightly as Jane made sure to keep her eyes away from his, “Would you rather I start talking?”

“A little bit, yes.” Jane gave a small nod and Sherlock opened his mouth to begin speaking, which got Jane to finally look up at him, “Okay, maybe not.” She let out a sigh.

“I’ve never seen you so nervous like this, it really does amuse me, you know, though it’s not the most suiting thing for you.” Sherlock grinned down at Jane who bit her lip. Sherlock stared at her light face and swollen lips for a few moments before he set his hands on her arms to pull her away, causing Jane’s eyes to become a little frantic.

“Wait!” Jane said as her hands squeezed Sherlock’s lower neck lightly, “First off, I know you wouldn’t care at all as you’ve probably forgotten, but today is Valentine’s Day.” She said quickly. Sherlock was about to speak and Jane gave him aggressive eyes, warning him to not say anything, “And I know that this day was not originally a day for lovers to fawn over each other—trust me, I know my history—but that’s what the day has become and, though I’m alone on the day, that doesn’t mean I can’t just steal a Saint Valentine’s Day kiss.” A blush made itself present across Jane’s cheeks as she looked away from Sherlock again, trying to hide it, but to no avail, “Also… earlier, when you guessed that my using of your first name was a sign of trust… it was, but it was also… me showing that I… cared.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “As you already know, I don’t like a lot of people, I don’t associate with a lot of people, so being able to trust _and_ care about you is really something.”

“And when you say you care… you mean you’d be afraid to see me go, you wouldn’t want our companionship to just end?” Jane nodded lightly as Sherlock began to smile, “And is this caring on a… romantic level?” Jane’s eyes widened.

“I’m not the romantic type.”

“Yet you’re the type to just kiss a man out of the blue?” Now, Jane grinned slightly.

“Actually, yes… but that’s another story for another time, I think.” Jane began to walk away from Sherlock (though she didn’t particularly want to, but to at least try to make some sort of point) with her confidence back as her grin began to spread. Sherlock glared at the back of her head.

“Really, you’re not going to explain after all that?” He asked as he stood in his place. Jane shook her head as she threw a glance over her shoulder.

“Of course not; the fact that you don’t even try to guess my back story amuses me.” Sherlock sighed then gave Jane a devilish look that she easily caught, “Don’t you dare try anything.” Sherlock began running toward her, causing Jane to gasp before she started running. Her feet left the pavement as they found the slightly damp grass of the park they strolled by. Sherlock chuckled lightly as he ran; he and Jane both knew she couldn’t outrun him, but she still tried.

Quickly, Sherlock caught up to Jane and grabbed her up around the waist. Jane laughed as her feet left the ground for a few moments before she looked at the man holding her with a surprised, wide-eyed expression; this was a side she _never_ saw. Sherlock wasn’t the typical “fun” type of person, but seeing him so humanly carefree was really a sight. And she was enjoying it. Knowing that Sherlock could behave less seriously if you provoked him was something she’d hold onto for when she needed it.

“I like seeing you like this.” She spoke out loud as Sherlock set her back down, but kept a hold on her. He tensed a little as he realized how out of character he was behaving, “Don’t worry yourself about it.”

Sherlock shook his head, “You won’t let anyone know about this.” Jane gave him a pouty lip.

“Why is that? Is this Sherlock only specially reserved for me?” She threw him a perverted smile, but blushed lightly at her own behaviour. Sherlock couldn’t help but grin, as much as he hoped his behaviour would go back to usual.

“I don’t expect you’ll see this Sherlock again.” He warned, but Jane shook her head.

“I know how to bring this Sherlock out,” She whispered as she leaned back towards him; she was exuding more confidence now, but she was still nervous like before, “I will definitely use that to my advantage.” Sherlock tried to stare into Jane’s eyes with seriousness, but he couldn’t bring himself to, which made Jane grin, “I think I found a weakness…” Jane pressed her lips lightly on Sherlock’s again for only a few moments.

Sherlock knew what this meant; he knew Jane wasn’t looking for any kind of romantic relationship, at least not at the time, and certainly not with him, but she wanted some fun. She was more comfortable with him than anyone she’s met in years, and she was using this comfort for her pleasure, which didn’t bother Sherlock as he also discovered for himself why she found pleasure in this. So, whatever was happening between them—whether this near-romantic, flirty behaviour continued or not—was nothing to be taken too seriously. They cared for each other (which wasn’t common for Sherlock) and trusted each other, so finding this type of relationship almost seemed like something impossible that the two needed. Sherlock had a strange feeling that whatever was going on would continue.

Sherlock gripped one of Jane’s hands with his own as he began pulling her back out to the pavement; it was a cold night and—though Jane brought warmth into his body—he could really go for a cup of tea and a warm fire. So, silently but happily, the “couple” began walking to 221b Baker Street.

Jane could only guess how strange she and Sherlock looked together; he looked so well put together and clean cut in his suit and trench coat. His walk portrayed professional confidence with every step he took and he held himself in such a high way that would threaten many. Jane, on the other hand, looked rebellious and dangerous with her leather and thick boots. She looked like the person a parent never wanted their child to be and the type that some would frown at, either in disgust or as if they felt bad for a problem she supposedly had.

And when the two walked side by side, it was something to see. They didn’t look like they belonged together, whether in a business or romantic relationship (maybe not any type of relationship at all), but the way people viewed them was something the two had stopped worrying about way before they even knew of the others existence. Whatever people thought, they would probably always be wrong. Maybe they were a dream team, maybe it was a terrible pair, but whatever they were, they were strong together and they knew it (though neither wanted to admit that they would be stronger with the help of another person).

Whatever kind of relationship these two had, Sherlock and Jane knew there was something there that was a force to be reckoned with. 


	3. Aliqui Fortuna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane Dunn was determined to get Sherlock Holmes to go out and enjoy St. Patrick's Day...

Sherlock sat casually in his armchair, silently reading a newspaper that John brought home earlier in the day. Like usually, every article he set his eyes on was boring Sherlock and often caused him to roll his eyes at how pathetic most of it was.

After a few moments, Sherlock’s forehead crinkled as he thought—where had John been for the last few hours? Did John tell Sherlock he went out and expected for Sherlock to listen? Maybe John was just in his room….

“John!” He called out as he set down the newspaper.

“He left a few hours ago!” Jane called from the kitchen—Sherlock didn’t even know she was here, so the sound of her voice was a bit of a surprise to him.

“Well… where is he?” Jane let out a sigh as she picked her mug up off the counter. She walked into the living room and sat in the chair across from Sherlock.

“He’s out, I’m not sure where.” Sherlock watched Jane carefully, eyes slightly squinted (trying to remember when she walked in his home), as she took a sip of her tea, “I got here about the time he left.”

“You’ve been here that long?” Sherlock asked surprised. Jane laughed lightly.

“For a detective who knows everything, you sure do miss the basic things.” She replied simply. Sherlock glared slightly, which only made Jane grin, “I actually told Watson we’d meet him in about an hour.” Sherlock gave her another confused look.

“What for; is something important going on?” Jane put her tea on the table as she sat forward in her seat.

“Not really, but we plan to go out for a bit of fun.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “You _really_ are good at forgetting holidays, Sherlock, you know—it’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

“That could hardly be considered a holiday; people only ever use it as an excuse to get alarmingly drunk.” He replied simply while Jane began grinning.

“And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Her eyes were bright as Sherlock gave her a hard look.

“Really, Jane? You plan to go out and lose track of all your senses due to a simple drink?” Sherlock caught Jane nod lightly, “I thought better of you.” He picked the newspaper back up from the table so as to appear occupied. Jane let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Come on, it’s just a bit of fun.” She stood up and peered down at Sherlock, “Even you need to have fun every once in a while.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I do have fun.”

“You need to know how to have fun when not handling a case; if I can do it, then you can do it.” Jane stepped forward and pushed down the newspaper, “I promise you that you’ll have some fun.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he looked up into Jane’s eyes.

“I’ll just stay home; you and John can go out and become senseless together.” Jane glared down at Sherlock.

“You _are_ going to come.” She insisted as Sherlock grinned lightly.

“I don’t think you can force me into going anywhere.” He replied.

“You don’t have to drink, you know, just come to a pub with us.”

“You hate pubs.” Sherlock looked back to the newspaper.

“No, I hate people in pubs.”

“You hate all people.”

“Right now I’m beginning to hate you, too.” Sherlock smirked once more.

“If you’re beginning to hate me why would you want to take me anywhere?” Jane rolled her eyes.

“Dammit, Holmes, just come with us.” She put her hands on her hips as she glared and Sherlock grinned—she was definitely becoming angry based on the fact that she used his last name, “You can insult people left and right and they’ll all think it’s because you’re drunk.” The pair stared at each other for a few moments.

“No.” Sherlock held the newspaper in front of his face, planning to end the conversation there. Jane sighed in annoyance and began muttering to herself, “You really need to work on that muttering thing, you know.” Jane glared at the newspaper, hoping her gaze would burn right through it and into Sherlock.

“Oh, shut up.” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he heard Jane take a few steps back “…What if I said ‘please?’”

“No.” Jane clenched her jaw and looked at the clock. After calming down for a moment ( _‘count to five’_ ), an idea came to Jane and she grinned slightly while looking toward Sherlock with a careful eye. With slight hesitation, she took slow steps back toward Sherlock, who still hid behind a newspaper.

“You honestly can’t find that interesting.” Jane said simply as she stopped in front of him.

“Maybe I do.”

“Don’t lie.” Sherlock peeked over the newspaper at the grinning woman in front of him with a skeptical look.

“You’re up to something.” Jane shook her head as Sherlock brought the newspaper down slowly.

“Never; why would I be up to something?” Sherlock’s eyes squinted at her as Jane stepped closer.

“Now you’re the liar.” Jane set her left hand on Sherlock’s knee as she bent to his eye level. Things clicked quickly for Sherlock and he rolled his eyes, “Do you really think you can persuade me to go so simply; I don’t cave to affections.” Jane laughed as she came closer.

“How many people have ever actually tried to persuade you with affection?” Sherlock held firm eye contact as he caught the glint of mischief in Jane’s eye.

“Does it matter?” He questioned. Jane was close enough to feel Sherlock’s breathe on her face and she had to hold back a sigh. She looked away from his bright eyes and toward the collar of his shirt so he couldn’t catch the look in Jane’s eyes. But Sherlock did indeed catch it and grinned in amusement.

“It doesn’t matter…” Jane started as she looked back up at his eyes, “because this time I’ll make it work.” The two both had some amusement in their eyes as they were silent. Jane moved closer to Sherlock, now putting both hands on his legs.

“I’d like to see you try…” He whispered. Without hesitation, Jane quickly pressed her lips on Sherlock’s as she held his knees tightly. Sherlock sat determined to not respond to her tempting actions but when Jane’s hand trailed up his leg, hovered over his crotch, glided up his chest, and settled on the back of his neck, Sherlock couldn’t suppress the shiver that passed through him, causing Jane to smile into their kiss.

After a moment, Sherlock began to respond to Jane’s sweet lips and he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her down off her feet and into his lap. Jane gasped lightly as she fell and clung to Sherlock immediately. Their lips fought against each other’s while their holds tightened. Jane pulled back from Sherlock’s lips and began to feverishly trail kisses along his jaw and down his smooth neck. Sherlock took in a sharp intake of breath as Jane bit his collarbone and his hands gripped her closer. Jane slowly kissed her way back up Sherlock’s neck as his hands grazed across her back; when she reached his ear, Jane lightly nibbled the lobe.

“So…” she muttered lightly. Sherlock glanced at her in his peripheral vision while his hands gripped her tightly, “Wanna join me at the pub?” Sherlock couldn’t help but smirk; he had actually forgotten about Jane’s initial motive for kissing him, but of course she didn’t. Jane came back to Sherlock’s lips and pecked them lightly with a similar grin on her face.

“I’d rather stay here.” Sherlock replied, looking Jane in the eyes. She raised her eyebrow in annoyance as Sherlock leaned back toward her. Jane put her hand over Sherlock’s lips, stopping him from coming closer as she gave him a grin.

“Then I should go; I can’t leave Watson waiting.” Sherlock gave her a glare and tightened his hands so she couldn’t get out of his hold. Jane crossed her arms over her chest.

“How could you _possibly_ have fun at a _pub_?” He insisted, not at all understanding why Jane—an angry antisocial—would want to be around so many loud, annoying people. Jane rolled her eyes and set her hands on Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Sometimes becoming a drunken idiot could be fun…” She replied innocently.

“I think you just like drinking.” Sherlock smirked up at Jane’s face as she let out a giggle.

“Well, I’m Irish!” Jane changed her accent to that of a rich Irish one she grew up around, “It’s in me blood!”

“I don’t think drinking habits are something passed through blood.” Sherlock said smartly. Jane rolled her eyes before quickly prying herself out of his hold and standing up straight, “You still won’t be able to get me to go.”

“Oh, I won’t force you anymore; you’ve made your point.” She replied while picking up a green jacket that she rarely ever wore (it was St. Patrick’s Day after all, she wanted to be festive somehow). Sherlock’s brows wrinkled together—he knew Jane wasn’t the type to just give up, “I’ll be off to have a fantastic time with Watson and anyone else I think is worth interacting with.” As she threw on her coat, Jane pulled a small button from the pocket and pinned it on her shirt. A simple little _‘kiss me, I’m Irish’_ was written on it and Sherlock couldn’t suppress the roll of his eyes.

“You are hardly the festive type; I don’t see why you’re getting so into this.” Jane grinned and leaned in the doorway to the hall.

“Because St. Patrick’s Day is fun; back in Ireland you learn that on this day you’ll have a hell of a good time.” She replied, “You just don’t like my button.” Jane wiggled the button slightly.

“It’s silly, Jane.”

“So are you.” Sherlock began to reach for the newspaper, causing Jane to sigh, “Don’t think you can hide behind that thing again.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the woman giving him a slight glare, “Suit yourself, then; I know some good looking gent will like this button.” Jane turned and began walking to the door, “Have fun with the paper, Sherlock.”

Sherlock heard the front door open and close loudly as he stared blankly at the newspaper. The small flat was _so_ quiet now, which Sherlock was comfortable with for a few moments, but the ringing in his ear told him it was much too quiet after all the noise that had just ensued. So, Sherlock stood and grabbed his violin, playing a random, rapid tune, but sighed—he was suddenly _very_ bored here alone.

“She did that on purpose.” He said out loud with a grumble. Jane didn’t give up earlier, she was using a trick, “Stupid little leprechaun…” Sherlock paced the room; he didn’t want to stay here bored, but he didn’t particularly want to follow Jane, merely because he didn’t want to see that tempting little triumphant smirk on her lips. Sherlock stole a glance out the window, taking count of the number of people on the street to distract himself, but it didn’t help—now he wanted to go find Jane.

Letting out a large sigh, Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf before descending down the stairs. With a slight scowl, Sherlock left his home, but was surprised to find Jane casually leaning on a lamp post with a large grin plastered on her face. Sherlock’s scowl grew as he walked toward her.

“Took you long enough.” She said.

“I despise you right now.” Sherlock replied as Jane linked her arm through his, pulling him along while laughing.

“Hush, we’re going to have fun tonight.” Sherlock looked down at Jane’s smiling face and had to keep the grin that threatened to cross his features hidden, “We’ll get to make fun of all the idiots in the pub, we’ll get to see Watson drunk again, and I’ll get you drunk.” Sherlock chuckled.

“Hardly likely.” He responded, now having a smirk on the corners of his lips. Jane looked up at him with bright, happy eyes.

“We’ll see about that, Mr. Holmes.” Jane replied and leaned against Sherlock lightly, putting her head on his shoulder, “Just try to enjoy yourself.” Sherlock grinned at her as he waved down a taxicab for the two.

“As you usually say, ‘no promises.’” 


	4. In Secretum Peur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane Dunn is hiding something big from Sherlock Holmes, but he didn't expect what he finds at all...

Sherlock lied quietly on his couch, staring boredly at the ceiling while thinking about what he could possibly do today. John was on a date (which caused a chuckle to escape Sherlock when he was first informed), he had no cases to tend to, and he was bored out of his mind—though that was a regular occurrence for him. Usually, he could do just fine with his own mind for amusement, but with nothing new to think about he’d get rather bored recalling old cases and other such things.

Sherlock rolled onto his side and glanced at his mobile phone sitting on the coffee table. He watched it in silence for a few moments, as if it was going to do something to solve his dilemma, before reaching for it with a sigh; he was going to call Jane. Sherlock wasn’t fond of calling Jane purely because he was bored, but in this instant he wanted to see her because she’d find some way to cure his overwhelming boredom.

After selecting her speed dial (it took him some time to finally decide to give her one), Sherlock held the phone to his ear as he looked back up at the ceiling, waiting for her to answer. The mobile rang three times.

“Hey, Sherlock.” Jane greeted in a rushed tone.

“Jane.” Sherlock was silent for a moment, “Are you free today?” Sherlock believed he heard a sigh from Jane’s end of the line.

“I told you yesterday I’d be busy from Friday to Monday.” She replied in an exasperated tone; even when she thought she had his full attention, he just wouldn’t listen sometimes.

“…No you didn’t.” Jane rolled her eyes as she grabbed her favourite jacket off a chair.

“Yes, Sherlock, I most definitely did.” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he thought; maybe she did tell him…

“Well, what are you doing that’s so important?” Sherlock questioned as he sat up. He heard a door open then close on the other end of the call as Jane exited her small flat.

“It’s personal.” She replied as she walked down the front steps quickly, “You don’t get to know.” Sherlock stood from the couch; he’d continued questioning her, but he might as well go find something to do.

“Why? Does anyone else know?” Jane groaned as she flagged down a cab.

“A few others, but no one you know or ever need to. Now, please Sherlock, just drop it.” Sherlock frowned.

“Jane, I could hardly ‘just drop it;’ what could possibly seem so personally important that you won’t even tell me about it?” He asked and walked to his room to change out of his pajamas.

“I don’t want you or anyone else to know.”

“I’m going to look for you.” Sherlock stated while Jane took a seat in the back of the cab.

“If you do, I promise I will beat you up.” She replied.

“You don’t make promises.” Sherlock replied with a grin as Jane rolled her eyes.

“Goodbye, Holmes.” Jane said as she pulled the phone from her ear. Sherlock heard her say something about an airport and guessed she was talking to the cab driver before she hung up. Sherlock thought for a moment before his eyes brightened—if she was heading for the airport, he wanted to know why, so, with that thought, Sherlock threw his phone down on his bed so he could change.

************************

After a stressfully long drive (the cab driver got caught in the London traffic and tried to converse with Sherlock), he finally arrived at the airport and looked around. With his luck, Jane might already be gone—that drive took _much_ longer than it needed to. Sherlock entered and took long strides around the place as he observed the crowd for Jane.

It took a few minutes for Sherlock to decide Jane was no longer here. Had she gotten on a plane? Sherlock crossed that possibility off his list quickly, having a good feeling that she hadn’t left the city. She came to pick someone up. The question was who it could have been. Maybe someone from the Dublin or Liverpool police… family…? Neither seemed particularly likely, causing Sherlock to groan and take out his mobile; he had no idea why he was so determined to find Jane, but he supposed his curiosity had to be getting the better of him.

“What is it now, Sherlock?” Jane asked into the phone after three rings (She almost always answered after three, Sherlock discovered when they first met). Sherlock listened to the background noises on Jane’s end—she was outside where there was a grand cacophony of bustling noise and people.

“Where are you?” He asked quickly as he stood near the coffee shop within the airport. Jane shook her head in annoyance.

“I _am not_ telling you.” She replied while she looked at the people around her then at the park with a careful eye.

“What secret could you possibly be keeping from me?” Sherlock was louder than he intended when he asked the question, “I thought you trusted me.”

“Sherlock…” Jane sighed, “Can’t you just be patient? You’ll get to know… eventually, just not right now.” Jane covered her phone with her hand and yelled out toward someone in the park, but it was too muffled for Sherlock to make out, “Holmes, don’t call again unless it’s an emergency.” Jane was about to hang up.

“Wait, Jane!”

“What!?” Jane sounded a little angry and Sherlock stayed silent, just listening to Jane’s surroundings; he was going to find out where she was, “Holmes?” Sherlock knew she wasn’t happy with him when she used his last name.

He then perked up—he knew exactly where she was.

“Never mind.” He hung up quickly, walked out of the airport, and called over a cab. Jane probably didn’t catch onto what Sherlock was doing, but he only had so much time to catch up to her. This time, Sherlock was lucky to have a cab driver who wasn’t so insistent on being annoying—he didn’t want to converse with Sherlock and got to his destination quickly.

Once he stepped out of the car, Sherlock began looking around with a sharp eye; he was at a somewhat busy street of shops with a large park across the street from them. Finding Jane couldn’t be too difficult here, especially since it was Sherlock that was looking for her. So, with his gaze, Sherlock began looking at the many faces around him for Jane.

It took a good few minutes, but eventually Sherlock saw her worn leather jacket as she exited a shop and quickly cross the street back toward the park where she had been prior. Sherlock smirked as he watched her; she didn’t look as if she expected to encounter anyone she was acquainted with. Jane had on an expression Sherlock had never seen before, though—she looked at peace, joyful, and completely happy. The smile gracing her lips was a surprise to Sherlock, but he liked seeing this new and different look on her. Why, though, was she so happy?

Sherlock looked Jane over once more to see what she had with her; a cup was held in her left hand (likely from the shop she just left), but Sherlock froze at what was held in Jane’s right hand. How did he not see it before? Was he really so blind that he didn’t notice it right away? He was losing his touch, at least where Jane was involved. Firmly, Jane held something soft and olive-white in colour that was gripping her larger hand in its own.

A little girl.

Sherlock stared at the child in complete shock; she was small, with dark brown hair covered by a purple and green striped beanie, clothed in dark jeans, little fuzzy boots, and an emerald green jacket.

Who was this child? A thought came to Sherlock, but he shook it off—the girl _couldn’t_ be Jane’s, could she?

Once Sherlock composed himself, he quickly dashed across the street and into the park where Jane and the child were walking toward a small playground occupied by many other children playing and running around. Sherlock watched from a distance before he sent Jane a short text.

Jane’s mobile buzzed in her pocket, and she stopped with the girl to check it. Jane handed the girl the cup she was holding before pulling her mobile from her back pocket.

            _‘Turn around._

_-SH.’_

Jane’s eyes widened. She looked back at the girl, who had asked her a question (most likely “what is it?”), before Jane put the mobile back in her pocket. Slowly, Jane looked up and turned around quickly finding Sherlock’s tall, dark form among the people. He had a triumphant grin on his lips, but his confusion was still in his eyes as Jane looked shocked and angry. She turned back to the little girl, spoke something quickly as she took back her cup, then sent the girl off to the playground after a few moments. Sherlock made his way toward Jane who distanced herself from the playground a bit. Soon, the two stood facing each other as Jane began to glare.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” She hissed and shoved his shoulder. Sherlock continued to grin.

“I wanted to find you, and I told you I would.” He said simply, “Now, explain _that_ to me.” He pointed toward the little girl who was going down a slide. The glare didn’t leave Jane’s face as she sighed heavily; if anything, her expression only became angrier.

“ _That_ is, first off, a she—a little girl.” She answered, feeling insulted that Sherlock would refer to the little girl as ‘that.’

“Fine, but who is she?” Sherlock crossed his arms as he waited; he had a good idea of what the answer could be, but with Jane involved, the answer could be something he didn’t first expected.

“Her name is Harley.” Jane said after a few moments and massaged her temple. She looked back to the playground to see Harley walking back toward Jane, which was the last thing she wanted right now; with Sherlock here, she wanted Harley to stay out of their conversation.

“And she is?” Jane let out another sigh as Sherlock also looked over at Harley, who gave him an innocently curious look. Jane turned away from Sherlock to give Harley her attention.

“Hey, girly,” Jane greeted and got on one knee to be at eye-level with the confused Harley.

“Mummy, who is he?” The small girl asked (with an odd Northern Irish and Liverpoolian mixed accent) in a whisper that Sherlock could still hear. His eyes widened—he thought that was the likeliest answer, even if it didn’t seem like a possibility, but having his suspicions confirmed was a bit of a surprise. Jane stole a look up at the surprised Sherlock, who tried to appear calm. A glint of amusement flashed in her eyes for a moment, before she pulled Harley into her arms and stood.

“Harley, this is Sherlock.” The child’s nose crinkled in confusion, causing Jane to smile.

“Sher—’’ Harley stuttered slightly and Sherlock had to hide a sigh and eye roll; his name _wasn’t_ _so_ difficult, “Sharelick?” Jane laughed quietly as Sherlock’s jaw tightened.

“Sher. Lock.” Jane clarified. Harley stared at her mother with large eyes before she looked at Sherlock.

“Sharelock.” She smiled slightly—she was so close to being right, but she thought she was successful.

“Yes, Sherlock.” Jane spoke—Sherlock had never seen her this way with people, it stunned him, to say the least, “He’s a friend of mine.” Harley put her small hands on her mother’s shoulders.

“But, Mummy, you said you din’t need friends as long as you has me.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as Jane continued to smile.

“ _’Have.’_ ” Both Jane and Sherlock said, causing Harley to look between them with a smile.

“You said it atta same time!” She squealed, entirely missing the point of what they said. Jane laughed, “Say ‘jinx’ before he does!” Harley insisted as Jane looked her child in the eyes.

“Jinx.” Jane said quietly then looked at Sherlock, who watched the scene before him with a raised eyebrow; the affection Jane was showing and her bright eyes was something strange for him to witness.

“Go on the swings with me.” Harley said and tried to wiggle out of Jane’s arms; the happy child’s feet soon met the ground as Jane lowered her down.

“How about I just push you for a little bit.” Jane responded as she began to follow Harley, who ran (which was about the equivalent of an adult’s large steps) toward a swing set. Jane looked back at Sherlock, who silently followed them.

The last thing Sherlock expected Jane to be hiding from him was a child—her _own daughter_ , for that matter. She never let anything slip, never said anything. This was a big surprise to Sherlock. Jane was a mother. _A mother._ The thought was a shocker.

“You definitely need to explain.” Sherlock finally said as Jane helped Harley onto a swing. Jane glanced at him before holding the chains of the swing.

“Hold on, baby, okay.” Jane looked back at her daughter with a small smile.

“Yes, Mummy.” Jane lightly pushed the girl, who let out a happy squeal.

“Later, Sherlock.” Sherlock watched the two.

“Why not now?” Jane gave him a hard look.

“Like I said, later; you can go home and I’ll call you tonight.” Sherlock shook his head as Harley insisted Jane push her higher.

“I think I’ll just stay with you; this is _very_ interesting.” Jane sighed.

“Fine… wanna push her, then?” Sherlock froze as Jane chuckled.

“Definitely not.” Jane just shook her head as she continued watching Harley.

*******************************

A few hours later, the sun was setting as Jane, Sherlock, and Harley sat in a small restaurant. Harley was lying across one of the seats at the booth, beginning to fall asleep after her eventful day, as Jane sat next to Sherlock, watching her daughter with a simple, loving smile.

“So…” Sherlock started, getting Jane’s attention “she’s three and a half years old, you don’t know where her father is, and she doesn’t live with you; why?” Jane sighed and stared down at the table, chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment.

“Well, I’ve had a really hard time the last five years; I mean, I had a good, stable job, but as for my personal life, things were a little harder. I was always out, always doing something crazy, on the verge of breaking laws—” (which was ironic, seeing as she worked for the law, in a sense), “—and I had become a very angry person as I interacted with others. I was already being watch by some of the people in the Dublin police because they worried about me, and when I got pregnant, their worries only grew.

“When Harley was a few months old, both the people at the station and myself realized I just couldn’t be a proper parent at the time. So, after going through an ordeal with Child Services, we made an arrangement that would have another couple—this nice man from the station and his wife, who had a young son of their own—as her guardians, but I could still visit her. I would go by their place every chance I got so I could see her—I wanted her to get to know her own mother, after all—and at about a year old, the allowed her to spend weekends with me once a month. These two days eventually became four and on some occasions she’s gotten to spend two weekends a month with me.

“Now that I’m out here, it’s harder to see Harley. We finally made a deal that she could come to London and that’s how she’s here now.”  Jane smiled toward her daughter, who had just fallen asleep, before looking back at Sherlock. He watched Jane with an unreadable expression, causing her to worry; what was he thinking?

“You seem like a great mum.” He finally said in a tone oddly similar to what some people would consider adulated, causing Jane’s smile to grow at his out-of-character statement.

“Hopefully they see that, too; I would love for her to live here with me.” Jane bit her lip and pulled her mobile from her pocket for a moment, “We should head out.” Sherlock nodded as Jane slipped off of the bench and stood, and he followed her action, “I’m gonna go pay, could you carry her?” Sherlock tensed and looked at Jane with confused eyes; did she actually expect him to hold a child? Did she ask this of him on purpose?

“No, I’ll go pay.” He tried to walk around her, but Jane pressed a hand to his chest and grabbed his arm.

“Sherlock, you didn’t order anything; it’s easy to hold a child, you know.” Before he could argue further, Jane quickly walked to the cashier. Sherlock slowly turned to look at Harley with a slightly intimidated expression—funny to think that he’s calmly be in the face of danger and death, but the thought of holding a child scared him.

With a huff, Sherlock stepped to the bench and swiftly lifted Harley into his arms. After carefully rearranging her, he had her head leaned on his shoulder and he held her firmly with an arm under her legs. When he looked at the door, he saw Jane standing there with a smile plastered on her face as she watched him. Sherlock sighed and walked toward her.

“Let’s go.” She said and turned to open the door for him. Sherlock gave her a confused expression.

“You aren’t going to carry her?” Jane smiled wider.

“Watching you carry her is amusing and cute.” Jane replied, causing Sherlock to huff a little, but not argue further. The two started walking down the sidewalk silently, enjoying every moment of it.

Sherlock stole a glance at the little girl in his arms; the resemblances she had to her mother were definitely there—her bright green eyes matched her mother’s left eye, while her hair would be the same rich brown if Jane’s wasn’t died black; Harley’s skin was of a lighter colour, though, and her behaviour was probably more in tune to that of the couple she lived with.

“Sherlock, are you smiling?” Jane asked happily surprised as she looked at him; he didn’t even realize his lips were pulled into a calm and happy expression until Jane pointed it out to him. Before he could rid himself of the expression, a flash came from Jane’s phone as she took a picture of Sherlock carrying her daughter. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as Jane laughed and began typing a text with the image attached.

            _‘Look at this! I’ll explain it later.’_

The message was sent off to John quickly, and Jane hoped he was just as happy and surprised as she was about it.

“Why would you do that?” Sherlock asked, trying to remove his smile.

“Because it was a picture perfect moment.” Jane replied as Sherlock carefully shifted Harley in his arms.

“… Did you send that to John?” Jane looked at him a little surprised—an expression he caught, “I had a feeling you did.”

“I think you like Harley.” Jane grinned at Sherlock.

“She’s a decent little girl, though she could improve her grammar and stop being so… childish.” Jane rolled her eyes as she nudged him lightly with her shoulder.

“Oh, shut up, you like her.” Sherlock sighed before smiling; he had no reason to hide any of this from Jane, she had seen his tender side before.

“Fine, yes, she can be lovely.” The two smiled at each other.

“I think she likes you, too.” Jane replied. Soon, they turned a corner where Jane’s flat was just down the street.

“…Can I see you two again tomorrow…?” Sherlock asked in a somewhat awkward and hesitant tone as Jane pulled her keys from her pocket. Her eyes brightened at she looked up at his face.

“Wow, Harley must be very tolerable if she’s lovely _and_ you want to see her tomorrow.” The two walked up the steps and Jane unlocked the door, letting them enter quickly. Sherlock grinned, “I knew I’d be the one to constantly find your sensitive side.” She gave Sherlock a smile as she began turning on her lights.

“Yes, and I thought we’d never see it again.” He glanced around Jane’s flat, “Where do you want me to put her?”

“Bedroom; I’m sleeping on the pull-out for the next few nights.” Jane said as she pointed down the hall while walking toward the couch. Sherlock took quick steps and set Harley on the bed carefully so as not to wake her, “Once you’re gone I’ll get her taken care of.” Sherlock watched as Jane struggled to get the pull-out set properly and laughed lightly at her. Jane sent him a mock glare, but her smile made it too funny.

“Well, I best be going; John will probably want me to explain myself.” Sherlock said as he turned to leave.

“Excuse me; you’re just disappearing without even a proper goodbye?” Jane questioned with her hands on her hips, “Come back in here.” Sherlock rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“Really, Jane, are you a child again?” He asked as he turned around and took a few large steps toward her.

“Not exactly.” She said and put her hands on his shoulders, “Now, you’re too tall, so get down here.” She smiled widely with Sherlock’s eyes giving her an amused look as he bent down toward her. Jane stood on her toes and pressed her lips on his quickly as she pulled her arms around his neck. As their lips moved against each other’s for a few moments, shuffling came from the hallway.

“Ew, Mummy! You’re gona get cooties!” Jane quickly pulled away from Sherlock as he groaned slightly; Harley had impeccable timing. Jane blushed lightly as she turned back to Harley.

“Don’t worry; I have cootie repellant. I’ll be safe.” Jane stepped away from Sherlock, “Now, I need to get you back to bed.” As Jane scooped Harley into her arms, she turned to look at Sherlock, “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Goodnight, Jane.” Sherlock smiled then looked at the small, tired child, “Bye… Harley.” She smiled groggily at him.

“Bye-bye Mr. Sharelock.” And, after refraining from narrowing his eyes into a glare at the child for mispronouncing his name once more, Sherlock was quickly out of the flat.

“How am I going to get you back to sleep?” Jane joked as she walked toward the bedroom.

“I’m gonna stay up all night with you!” Jane and Harley smiled at each other.

“Well, we’ll see about that…”


	5. Ego opus vobis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane Dunn is out of the country and her dearest Harley thinks Sherlock Holmes should do the same thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, haven't updated this is a while... oh well, doesn't matter too much anyway. I was just going through and editing all the one-shots I have in the series and decided I needed an update. So, here it is.

Jane woke up slowly to the feeling of something tugging on her arm. At first, she planned to dismiss it and try to sleep again, but when she finally registered a small, familiar voice calling to her, Jane forced her eyes open. With a sigh, Jane turned her head to look at her daughter.

“I’m awake now, Harley.” Jane said groggily as the child’s smiled widely.

“Come on, mummy, Ida made breakie!” Jane stared at the ceiling while flinching a little at the volume of Harley’s voice.

“Just give me a few minutes; mummy’s tired from last night.” Harley jutted out her lower lip as she tugged on her mother’s hand again.

“But it’ll get cold.” Jane sighed and rolled on her side to look at Harley.

“Start eating without me; I think Ida and Kevin will be okay with that.” Harley nodded before running from the guest bedroom. Jane watched her go for a few moments before she sighed and slowly sat up, putting her head in her hands while doing so; yesterday she was busy with a case that took up most of her day before she got on a late flight to Dublin. Once she landed here, she spent a few good hours catching up with Harley and the McGinnis’s before she finally went to bed. Even with all the sleep she got, Jane still felt exhausted.

Jane heaved herself out of her cozy bed and stretched before grabbing a large sweat shirt to pull over her tank top. Jane shuffled out of the room with drooping eyes and caught a glimpse of herself in the restroom mirror—her make-up smeared terribly since she decided not to remove it last night, her eyes looked a little dead, and her black hair was a hot mess. Jane took a moment to scrub off most of the make-up and run her fingers through her hair as she descended down the creaky staircase of the McGinnis house.

The McGinnis’s were the family that took Harley in for Jane when she couldn’t take care of Harley. So, for around three years, the McGinnis’s have had Harley in their household. They’ve been quite fond of having her and have also grown fond of Jane, who always tried to be as friendly as possible since she was in great thanks to them, not only for taking care of Harley, but also for everything else they’ve done (like let Jane stay in their home while she was visiting on this particular trip).

“Good morning, Jane.” Ida greeted with a warm smile once she spotted Jane, who gave a weak smile in return to the woman about five years her senior, “I’m afraid you just missed Kevin; even on weekends he has such a busy schedule.”

Jane quickly joined Ida, Harley, and Aidan (Ida’s six year old son) at the table, “Well, I wouldn’t have expected him to wait up for me.” Jane grabbed the plate of eggs and began to scoop some onto her plate, “So, Ida, any plans for the day?”

“Mum’s taking me to football.” Aidan said loudly with a smile. Jane took in his attire, noticing that he was already in his game uniform with his cleats sitting next to his chair.

“Maybe Harley and I will join you.” At hearing that, Harley crinkled her nose and frowned.

“But mummy, I always go; I wanna do something just the two of us.” She whined. Jane gave Harley a look, “Please?”

“Such as?” Harley began to think hard, causing Jane to smile as her daughter stayed silent with thought.

***************************

  Hours later, Jane and Harley were laughing loudly as Jane ran to Harley’s room with the child on her back. When they entered, Jane fell onto the bed, which then made Harley choose to crawl away from Jane’s side. Jane continued to chuckle while Harley began to calm down.

“Mummy, calm down!” Harley squealed with a smile as Jane looked at her.

“Since when are you the mature one here?” Jane asked with a grin while turning to lie on her side, “Usually I have to get you calm.”

“You were goin’ crazy.” Jane chuckled.

“I would hardly say that, baby; I’ve been crazy.” Jane replied as she looked at the ceiling in thought, “I never have this much fun in England.” Harley sat up and grabbed her mother’s hand.

“Why? I thought you ‘ad fun with Mr. Sharelock?” A slight smile grazed across Jane’s lips; she sort of missed his company.

“Yes, _Sher_ lock and I do have all sorts of adventurous fun, but not like this; I’ve never dashed through a house with him on my back—that would be difficult.” Harley giggled.

“Do you miss him? I do—I wanna see him again.” She watched her mother who was silent for a few moments.

“I do; I miss him a lot. I’m so used to being with Sherlock that adjusting to this trip is odd; I almost expect to get a call from him sometime soon.”

“Sherlock should come ‘ere!” Harley’s smile grew large at her new idea. Jane laughed as she shook her head.

“I don’t think he’d want to come to Dublin.”

“Why?” Harley gave Jane wide, curious eyes that always brought a sincere smile to Jane’s lips.

“He doesn’t travel well.” Harley’s eyes narrowed.

“I think he should.”

“Yes, he should.” Jane sighed while staring up at the ceiling. The two stayed silent for a few minutes. During that time, Harley thought as deep as her little three and a half year old brain would allow; she knew her mum missed Sherlock—as she also did—and this made her wonder if Sherlock didn’t like travelling as much as Jane said…

With a small smile and a bright idea, Harley sat up and looked at her mother, whose eyes were beginning to droop lazily.

“Mummy…” Jane looked back at Harley, “can I play with your mobile?”

“Why?” Jane asked cautiously; she didn’t want Harley to mess with any settings or options on the device.

“I wanna play that racing game.” Harley replied as innocently as she could muster. Though still suspicious, Jane took her phone from her pocket.

“Only play that game.” Jane said sternly. Harley gave a small nod while taking the mobile.

“Yes, mummy.” With that, Harley climbed off the bed, “Imma be downstairs.” Jane raised her eyes as she watched her little girl run off, still being quite cautious… but what damage could a child not even four years old do?

As Harley bounded down the stairs, she looked at the screen of Jane’s phone and pressed a green book style icon—she recalled this led to the device’s contacts. She then stared at a list of unknown names—Harley couldn’t yet read much besides the word ‘cat’, how was she to find Sherlock’s name? Harley glared slightly at the screen as she walked to the McGinnis’s sitting room. Ida could be heard in her office, which gave Harley an idea.

“Miss Ida!” She called. Ida peeked out of the office door, “I needa know how to spell Sharelock.” Ida gave the child a curious look.

“Whatever for?”

“I wanna talk to Mr. Sharelock.” Harley replied with a smile. Ida, not suspecting anything, walked over and pulled the phone from Harley and quickly found his contact; she remembered when Harley came back from England, Ida heard a great deal about Sherlock and found it cute how much Harley liked the man.

“There you are, dear; just press the green button to call.” Harley smiled widely as she took the mobile back and pressed the button as Ida began to leave the room.

“Thank you, Miss Ida.” Ida closed her office door as Harley held the phone and listened to it ring. After a few moments it was answered.

“Jane? I was just thinking to call you about something; I just finished something and—”

“This isn’t Mummy.” Harley interrupted with a happy tone to her voice. Sherlock’s end of the line went silent, “It’s Harley, Mr. Sharelock.” Sherlock clenched his jaw slightly to refrain from correcting her—he learned it would do him no good.

“What are you calling for, Harley? …When did your mother go to Ireland? Or are you in England?” Harley giggled as Sherlock’s eyes narrowed curiously; he didn’t recall Jane ever leaving, he had just seen her two days prior to this phone call.

“Mummy came here yesterday; she misses you.” Sherlock smiled slightly, but still wondered (he couldn’t remember Jane ever saying she was leaving).

“Misses me, hmm? How much?”

“She didn’t say, but I think lots.” Harley replied as Sherlock tried to suppress his amused grin; Jane would never admit to missing him, but telling Harley didn’t exactly work out in her favour, “So, I think you should come here?” Sherlock froze with a curious look.

“You think so? What if I didn’t want to?” Sherlock sat in his chair.

“Please, Mr. Sharelock. I wanna see you, too.” Again, a grin tugged at Sherlock’s lips.

“I’ll have to think about this.”

“ _Please.”_ Sherlock chuckled lightly at the child’s behaviour.

“Okay, I—”

“Can you be here now!?” Harley asked excitedly. Sherlock let out a sigh.

“No, tomorrow maybe.” Harley was smiling ear-to-ear as she sat jittering on a couch.

“This gonna be great; mummy’ll be so happy!” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I bet so; I’ll… see you tomorrow, Harley.”

“Bye, Mr. Sharelock.” With that, the two hung up and Sherlock slumped in his chair, staring at a spot on the floor for a few moments. John stood in the room with a smirk on his lips. Sherlock gave him a stern look with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re going to see Harley and play Daddy?” John asked, receiving a large glare from his flatmate; when Harley was in England about a month ago, Jane had to also explain things to John, who was flabbergasted at the news.

“She says Jane misses me… but when did Jane leave?”

“Yesterday after finishing the case.” John said with a sigh, “I’m a little shocked; you must miss Jane too if you’re thinking about going to Dublin.” Sherlock’s expression was blank at John’s comment, “You can admit to caring, Sherlock.”

“I don’t have to admit to anything.” Sherlock replied while standing, “Time to get a plane ticket.”

**************************

Jane sat quietly in the guest bedroom, typing quickly on her keyboard. She couldn’t help but bring some of her work with her so she could do it during free time and at the moment Harley was watching a programme on the television, keeping her occupied.

Jane noticed that the whole day Harley had been acting a little strange; she was very jittery and full of giggles, as if hiding something, but she wouldn’t tell Jane anything. This only made her curious as to what her daughter could possibly be hiding. Harley was very good, though, and wouldn’t let anything slip.

When a knock came from the front door, Jane looked up for a moment to listen and grew confused as she heard Harley joyously yell something. Who could be here? Everyone was home, so Jane concluded it wasn’t likely for it to be someone she knew. She stood quickly so she could go see who was here.

“Jane, someone’s here for you!” Kevin called as Jane walked into the hall. With a surprised expression, Jane scurried through the hall and down the stairs. When she turned the corner to look at the front entrance, she froze with widened eyes. Standing there, looking as good as ever, was Sherlock talking to Harley who had a handful of his jacket in her little white hand with a large smile on her lips. Jane looked between the two for a few moments in too much shock to do much else. Sherlock looked up to see Jane staring at him and amusement glistened in his eyes.

“Hello, Jane.” Harley quickly turned to look at her mum with her smile only growing.

“Surprise, mummy!” She yelled and ran toward Jane. Finally, Jane blinked while shaking her head and knelt to her daughter’s height, “I gots you a present.” Jane laughed dryly.

“It’s definitely a surprise…” She said and looked up at Sherlock, “A surprise that _you’ll_ have to explain.” Sherlock merely nodded at her harshened tone.

“Are you happy, mummy?” Harley asked, not expecting her mother’s reaction; Harley thought her mum would be grinning ear-to-ear and possibly jumping with joy, but Jane seemed utterly confused and a little… blank.

“Of course, but I didn’t at all expect this.” Jane glanced back at Sherlock for a moment then gave Harley a reassuring smile, “Go see if Ida needs you to do anything; I’m going upstairs to talk to Sherlock.” Harley dashed away as Jane turned back to Sherlock, “Come on.” The two walked up to the very plain and inviting—at least to people besides Jane, who wasn’t very fond of the décor—guest room Jane stayed in.

“Surprise.” Sherlock said with a joking tone. Jane walked past her bed and closed her laptop before turning back to Sherlock.

“Why in God’s name are you here, Sherlock?” Jane asked while taking a seat on the bed as Sherlock stayed in the doorway observing the room—he didn’t take much of a liking to the floral design either.

“A little birdie said you missed me.” Jane’s expression straightened slightly as she bit the inside of her cheek, “So, this little birdie decided to call me and insist I come out here to see you.” Jane stared for a few moments as a small grin grazed her lips.

“She’s clever.” Jane muttered in admiration of her daughter and looked Sherlock back in the eye, “But I have to be curious why you did come; did you miss me enough to visit?” Sherlock rolled his eyes as Jane leaned her chin in her left palm, “You had to have—you wouldn’t just come to make me happy, you do things like this for yourself.”

“I’ll admit to nothing on the topic.” He replied as Jane stood once more, taking small steps toward Sherlock.

“Come on, Mr. Holmes—I already know the truth, so you might as well give me the satisfaction of actually saying it to me.” Jane stood a few inches from Sherlock and craned her neck to keep eye contact.

“I could just do as you did and tell Harley—she could be our little messenger for all the little things we won’t word to each other.” Sherlock and Jane both smiled lightly at the thought.

“Well, that won’t do any good for this ‘relationship.’” Jane replied with a small laugh.

“I would say we need to work on that, but I know you and I both are too stubborn to begin to admit to anything.” Sherlock replied, “Even if we wanted to.”

Jane lightly grabbed the collar of Sherlock’s jacket, “Maybe with some time.” Sherlock gave Jane a (very rare) loving smile—he felt safe enough to let the expression cross his features—as her fingers and thumbs fiddled with his collar, “Though, of course, you’ll be the one to admit anything first.” Sherlock chuckled.

“We’ll see about that.” He muttered while leaning down toward her.


	6. De Puella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley Dunn just wants to know where her mummy and Sherlock Holmes are and why Sherlock makes her mother so happy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's an update after this series has been ignored for moths... I'll just leave it at that.

Harley sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. It was getting quite late and her mother was still out with the man. The man Harley almost wanted to have as her new father. Sure, he wasn’t good at interacting with children and if you looked up ‘rude’ in the dictionary you’d see his picture, but Harley enjoyed his company. He was unlike anyone Harley had ever met—he seemed a genius in her mind, almost like a magician, and it always made Harley smile when he’d say something completely obscene.

The most important part, though, was her mummy’s happiness. Harley hadn’t seen her mother this happen since she could first hold a memory. Harley knew mummy loved spending time with her, but this man—this Mr. Sharelock (and what a silly name that was)—brought a new light to her mother’s being. This man was so suddenly brought into her life and from the start Harley knew he was special to her mother. Even though she wasn’t yet four years old, Harley could see the bond he and mummy had formed.

It was special and rare, for Harley knew her mother didn’t give most people the time of day. But neither did Mr. Sharelock. Maybe that’s why they got along: because they didn’t like people. Harley didn’t mind it at all (she was accustomed to seeing her mother glare at or insult many that she hardly took the time to know), but she had been taught by Mrs. Ida and her preschool that you should try to be kind to everyone. So, why were her mother and Mr. Sharelock so rude? Were they given a special privilege of sorts? Or maybe they thought it was cool to rebel against the golden rule. Harley couldn’t be sure. After all, she had hardly experienced life to get a proper idea of human behaviour.

Eventually, Mrs. Ida insisted that Harley needed to get her rest and not wait up for her mother or Mr. Sharelock. But Harley wanted to know where they could be and what they were doing. Helping at her mother’s old workplace was a likely possibility—Harley knew her mother didn’t go on dates, not even with Mr. Sharelock (who, apparently, “wasn’t her boyfriend”). So, what were they up to? Harley settled on saying to herself they were on a grand adventure in the city of Dublin (which was, in fact, partly true).

With that in mind, Harley settled to try to get some sleep, remembering that when she’d wake her mother and Mr. Sharelock would be safely home.


	7. Et sensit mutatione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane Dunn wanted to spend some time with Sherlock Holmes. She definitely got what she was looking for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is two shorts in one day an adequate way of making of for all the time this series has been ignored? I really hope so... And... this is one of my favourites I've written, so I hope you like it.

When he entered his flat, Sherlock wasn’t sure whether or not to be surprised by the sight of Jane on his couch; he was accustom to her being the type to pop-in whenever she pleased, but—at the moment—Sherlock couldn’t come up with any reasons for Jane to be there.

He was also a little taken aback by her attire—today there was no leather, no jeans, and her tattoos were in plain sight (for the most part). Sherlock had never seen Jane in short and didn’t expect her to be very comfortable in attire that didn’t make her look intimidating. Sherlock was not in protest to her appearance, but the combination of being dressed unexpected and in his home all together left him confused.

“Hello, Sherlock.” Jane greeted while reading a book she stole off the shelf in John’s room (Sherlock lacked anything interesting to read). As Sherlock and John entered the room, they shared a confused few moments of eye contact.

“Jane, what are you doing here?” John asked while removing his coat. A small smile was present on Jane’s lips.

“Hi to you, too, Watson.” She said simply. Sherlock couldn’t suppress a small grin; after all this time he was still the _only_ one Jane referred to by first name.

“Why are you here, Jane?” Sherlock repeated John’s question.

“Bored.” Jane replied, still keeping her eyes on the words in the book.

“So you decided to come be bored here?” Sherlock and John sat in their respective chairs, “As you know, we don’t do much around here.”

“Maybe I just wanted some company and decided to see if you two were here.” Jane looked over the top of her book to see both men staring at her, causing her to squirm a little under their gaze.

“How long have you been here?” John asked while placing his hand on the side table near him, searching for something to occupy his hands with.

“Long enough.” Jane closed the book and looked between the two men, “Now, let’s do something.” She gave them a grin while Sherlock sighed.

“It’s getting late; I’m not really in the mood to do anything.” He replied. Jane looked at John with hopeful eyes.

“I have to agree with Sherlock; I’m tired.” Jane’s expression fell as John stood, taking his coat and whatever he held in his hand with him, “Sorry, Jane, maybe tomorrow.” He walked out toward the hall, “Goodnight.” Jane frowned at Sherlock.

“Don’t go to bed yet.” She said, though she knew Sherlock wasn’t exactly the type that slept much, “I’ll leave soon, but just hang out with me for a few minutes.” They looked each other in the eyes for a couple of seconds.

“Fine, fine, though I don’t know what we could do.” He responded. Jane gave him a slight smile.

“I could just enjoy your company while I read; thanks to you, I’ve begun to enjoy others’ presence sometimes.” She said while looking back at the book in her hands.

Sherlock watched Jane carefully—as he lacked much else to do, but also because something about her at that moment kept his attention. Sherlock wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to look away from the woman. The exposure of so much of Jane’s olive skin might have played a part in making him stare, but Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. Seeing Jane like this was enjoyably different for him.

Jane could feel Sherlock’s gaze looking her form up and down, causing her to grin. She was enjoying feeling his eyes on her for multiple reasons, one of which being her knowledge that Sherlock didn’t even try to look away from her.

“See something you like?” Jane mocked, causing Sherlock to finally look at her grinning face. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Don’t flatter yourself; I was zoning out.” Jane rolled her eyes.

“You were not.” She said simply. Sherlock looked around the room for a few moments.

“Is your skin naturally that colour or is it the sun that causes it?” He asked quickly, hoping to change the subject. But right when he asked, Sherlock realized it was the wrong question, as Jane began laughing.

“And you say you weren’t staring…” Sherlock gave her a _‘just answer me’_ sort of look, causing her to roll her eyes, “I’m almost half Italian from my dad’s side, so my skin reacts nicely to sun, but it’s also naturally a little darker than yours—though most people’s is.” Sherlock looked at Jane silently, “Why does it matter?”

Sherlock was silent for a few more moments, “I was merely curious.”

“Because you were staring at my legs.” Jane grinned widely as Sherlock’s jaw clenched.

“Fine, yes, I was—”

“You like my legs.”

“Jane—”

 _“You like them.”_ Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes as Jane continued to grin.

“You are acting like a child.” He replied as Jane laughed.

“Yes, well, I enjoy seeing that blush on your cheeks.” Sherlock’s eyes widened; he hadn’t realized that his cheeks has flushed into a pink tint, and with the mention of it, he blushed a little more, “You’re a bit off today, aren’t you, Sherlock?” Jane looked down at her legs, “Though I personally prefer my stomach, I guess my legs are decent.” Sherlock’s eyes unconsciously looked toward Jane’s middle, which was covered by a thin black shirt. She giggled once more when she saw Sherlock’s eyes moved toward her abdomen.

“Shut up.” He said quickly while looking away; what was wrong with him tonight? Sherlock didn’t entirely feel himself as he slowly looked back to Jane. She had looked back at her book, but her smirk was still evident on her pink lips. Sherlock watched Jane in silence, his expression slowly softening as he grinned to himself. He realized that, at the moment for some strange reason, he was _very_ attracted to Jane.

Slowly, Sherlock stood; he didn’t want to feel like this and thought to leave the room. But he told Jane he wouldn’t. Sherlock conflicted with himself, trying to quickly make a decision. He watched Jane for a few more moments, which caused her to look back at Sherlock (she felt his gaze and couldn’t fight stealing a glance in his direction).

“What now, Sherlock?” She asked lightly. Sherlock shook his head, causing Jane to raise her eyebrow; she could tell he was acting a little strange.

“Nothing, just… nothing.” Jane looked at her book again while Sherlock began walking around—he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but he wanted to feel busy and distract himself from the oddly tempting woman lounging on his couch. Sherlock boredly began picking things up and setting them down, which caused Jane to begin watching him in amused confusion.

“You’re so strange…” She muttered to Sherlock’s back, making him freeze for a moment; “Is there something bothering you?” Sherlock didn’t answer as he went back to observing his living room. Jane sighed as she tried to ignore him with her book as entertainment, but she hadn’t actually been reading it for the last few minutes, as she was distracted by Sherlock.

Hesitantly, Sherlock looked over his shoulder at Jane and watched her turn the book’s page, but, after watching her eyes, he could tell she wasn’t absorbing anything from the book. His eyes softened a little and he mentally kicked himself for what his head and heart were doing to him.

“Bullocks.” He muttered. Swiftly, Sherlock turned around and walked toward Jane quickly. With hearing his approach, Jane looked up curiously. Before she could say anything, though, Sherlock bent toward her and pressed his lips aggressively against Jane’s. His hand gripped the back of Jane’s neck with his fingers tangled in her dark hair, as Jane sat stunned. After a few moments, Jane’s arms snaked around Sherlock’s neck as she abandoned her sitting position (and book) to rise onto her knees. Sherlock pressed Jane against his body roughly, wrapping an arm around her middle securely as his other hand played with her hair.

Jane frantically ran her tongued across Sherlock’s lips and soon their tongues met. Jane’s hand slid down Sherlock’s chest and ran under his shirt, gliding over his middle lightly, which sent a shiver down Sherlock’s spine. The couple’s mouths moved feverishly and aggressively as a moan came from Jane’s throat. She tried to pull away from Sherlock, but he came back and bit on her bottom lip before his tongue snaked back into her mouth. He pressed roughly against Jane as he continued to hungrily kiss her. After a moment, Sherlock pulled back to glide his tongue down Jane’s neck, kissing and nipping her soft skin along the way.

“What has gotten into you?” Jane asked breathlessly with a small shiver as Sherlock bit the base of her neck.

“You are—unknowingly—a tease.” He muttered against her warming skin. Jane sighed as she leaned her head back.

“Watson might walk in.” She whispered. Sherlock smirked as his lips travelled back up her neck.

“It’s late.” His lips travelled back across her cheek to meet with Jane’s, “He’s in bed.” Sherlock lightly nibbled at her soft, fleshy lower lip. He then pressed his lips fully back to Jane’s as his hand slid along her side, slowly pushing up her shirt from her hips. Sherlock’s throat released a sound of pleasure as Jane’s tongue met his once more. Sherlock’s hand ran across her stomach and he pulled away from her for a moment to glance at the metal his fingers grazed, “Your belly button’s pierced?” Jane grinned at him as his thumb brushed the piece of jewelry.

“Does it bother you?” She asked as she watched Sherlock’s face. He looked at the piercing for a few moments before pressing his lips back to her neck.

“Not in the slightest.” Jane grabbed his neck and brought their lips back together for another heated kiss. Sherlock leaned into Jane as he pushed her back to lie her down as he settled himself on top of her. Instinctively, one of Jane’s bare legs wrapped up around his waist and pressed his middle a little closer to her own, rubbing his growing member against her. Sherlock pulled his lips from Jane’s and pressed his forehead against hers.

“I knew I wouldn’t be bored if I came here.” Jane muttered, causing Sherlock to chuckle. His thumb lightly massaged Jane’s hip as she closed her eyes. Sherlock looked at her lovely face thoughtfully while he leaned his head toward the hand she had playing with his dark locks of hair, “To say the least, though, you completely surprised me.” Jane opened her mismatched eyes to look into Sherlock’s.

“Isn’t that what I’m good at?” He responded and planted a light kiss on her wrist, causing her to bite her lip with a smile.

“Yes, but that was something I would have done if I wanted to catch you off guard.” Sherlock smirked as he sat up to be straddling Jane, who gave him a small pout.

“Maybe I’m just trying it out… I’m experimenting and you’re my test subject.” Jane laughed at Sherlock’s statement as she absentmindedly ran her fingers on his abdomen lightly.

“So I’m just a test subject to you?” She joked as Sherlock studied her face; he picked out all the little things about her mostly delicate features and how she behaved as she lied under him.

That’s when Sherlock’s actions finally sunk in; he realized how completely out of character he was being—it made him feel confused and vulnerable, yet he felt warm and safe in the moment. He didn’t know what to make of this mess of feelings and it made Sherlock’s mind suddenly race.

Jane noticed each little change in Sherlock’s expression as he thought; she had a pretty good idea of what that mental computer was probably thinking and analyzed all the looks in Sherlock’s bright eyes. Jane then felt him move—as if he was about to climb off of her—and she quickly grabbed a hold of his hands, erasing the glazed over look from his eyes as he gave his attention back to Jane.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” She insisted as Sherlock looked away from her face. He stayed silent as his eyes trailed to their locked hands then across Jane’s stomach, catching a glimpse of that belly button ring he found oddly attractive—Sherlock couldn’t suppress a smile, “Sherlock…”

He shook his head, “Don’t worry yourself over me.” Jane sighed.

“You’re so stubborn.” Jane grinned lightly, “Don’t worry yourself over what just happened, then.” Sherlock gave Jane a look, “I’m serious; you act as if we’ve committed a sin… though we have in the past, it’s a given nowadays that virtually everyon—”

“Don’t start rambling.” Jane gave Sherlock an innocent smile. Once more, he tried to climb off her, but Jane gripped him tighter, “Jane, I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Feeling these… emotions.” He said quickly. The two stared at each other for a few moments, “If I grow too fond of you like this, I become vulnerable and you could get hurt.” Jane laughed, causing Sherlock to give her a confused look.

“Funny; I think the same thing sometimes.” Jane’s thumb lightly rubbed over Sherlock’s knuckles, “Maybe we should just stop worrying.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“And how do you know?” Jane shuffled under Sherlock’s weight before also sitting, “I’ll just say this: I constantly worry about losing people—I’ve already lost so many—but something about you makes me feel like I shouldn’t worry that way. So, with you, I’m just letting whatever happens happen, because losing you doesn’t seem likely; you’re different.” The two looked each other in the eye. Slowly, Jane pulled Sherlock back toward her and pressed a light kiss on his lips, “So, think about that.”

Sherlock sighed as he wrapped his arms around Jane, “Sometimes I can only ask _‘why’_ when it comes to you.” He smiled at Jane.

“Maybe you’ll get your answer, but we can’t be sure.” Jane leaned her forehead on Sherlock’s shoulder, turning her face toward his neck so Sherlock could feel her warm breath, “… Let’s just go with it.” Sherlock leaned his head on Jane’s as he closed his eyes.

 _‘Just go with it’_ … that’s all he guessed he could do. Sherlock couldn’t just lose Jane and she felt the same way. Even if together they caused constant worry (both for others and each other), they wouldn’t be separated any time soon. They just knew it.


	8. In Argentum in ore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane Dunn has a knack for keeping a secret, but she failed to hide this one from Sherlock Holmes--he always had a strange array of methods to figure things out...

_‘I can’t make it to the case today._

_-Dunn’_

Sherlock read once more the text he received. With a slight sigh, he looked at John, who was waiting by the front door impatiently; Sherlock was wasting time—which he never did when a crime was involved—and it was on the verge of annoying to John like many attributes of Sherlock’s. But even then, John loved that bugger like a brother.

“Well, is she coming or not?” John asked as Sherlock put his phone away. He then walked past John and out the door.

“Jane won’t be joining us today.” Sherlock replied while flagging down a taxicab, “I’m assuming she’s still trying to get over that cold.”

“Smart of her; she refused to listen earlier this week when I warned her she’d only get worse if she didn’t tend to herself.” John said, though he knew Sherlock wasn’t likely to be listening. Soon, the two climbed into a cab and were off toward the crime scene.

“She hates missing out on this; I’m surprised she’s kept herself cooped up doing nothing for three days.” Sherlock spoke as he looked out the window, watching the passing London scenery.

“She’s using common sense.”

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.” Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, causing John to shake his head, “She’s just missing out.”

John rolled his eyes, “She’s taking care of herself.” He sighed while looking at his friend, “Maybe afterward we can check up on her?” Sherlock huffed out a light chuckle.

“She would rather we didn’t; unexpected company isn’t really welcome by her.”

 _‘Even when she’s the unexpected company in our home half the time.’_ John thought before he was about to try to speak.

“And she wouldn’t want us to see her sick; she would feel entirely unpresentable and you now she doesn’t even leave her house unless she feels she looks good enough.”

John let out a large, amused sigh, “Women.” A mere ‘hmm’ came from Sherlock’s throat as he typed away on his phone.

* * *

Sherlock largely sighed as he walked up to Jane’s front door with his hands carefully stuffed in his pockets; he wasn’t sure what came over him, but after his case he really felt the need to see Jane, even if she was sick and would probably be a little upset at him for just showing up. So, once he got in a new taxicab after spending hours on a case, he, instead of the usual Baker Street, said to go to Shirland Road.

And now, here Sherlock was, annoyed that he’d take time out of his day to see her, but also smiled because he was happy he’d be seeing Jane. But then he was worried about how Jane would react to his being there.

Sherlock first planned to knock and had his fist risen to do so, but then he thought to just walk in; how many times had Jane just let herself into his home again? (Too many times to count.) So, Sherlock pushed open the door before he could stop himself.

“Jane.” He called out. Light, padding footsteps then began jogging to the front and soon Jane stood within ten feet of Sherlock with a spoon hanging out of her mouth. But when he set eyes on her, Sherlock’s expression furrowed in confusion; Jane didn’t look sick—she was dressed in almost her usually attire (minus the jacket, boots, and rings) and had make-up covering her eyelids. Jane looked at Sherlock with some surprise, but quickly composed herself as she took the spoon from her mouth.

“What are you doing here, Sherlock?” She asked with her lips tighter than usual. Sherlock stepped forward while closing Jane’s front door with his eyes still confused.

“I thought you were sick.” He replied as he looked at Jane carefully. Under his gaze, Jane fidgeted as she looked at the ground.

“I’m almost past it, but I was doing some stuff today.” She replied. Sherlock focused on the detail of her voice—he heard a _lisp._ Jane had _never_ had a lisp all the time she’s known Sherlock (except for the occasions she was talking so quickly that her words slurred and stumbled together).

“What’s wrong with your mouth?” Jane looked back up at him.

“Nothing.” Sherlock watched her mouth as she said this and caught a glint of something. His eyebrows crinkled together as he stepped forward. Jane’s eyes were cautious as she watched Sherlock who stared at her tightly closed mouth for a few moments. A light bulb went off in Sherlock’s head and a small grin spread on his lips.

“Let me see it.” He said. Jane’s eyes widened slightly—to Sherlock’s amusement—though she tried to appear as if she was left in the dark.

“See what?” She asked just as carefully as she had been talking before.

“The tongue ring you’re doing a terrible job of hiding.” Jane sighed with a defeated look as Sherlock grinned, “Come on, then.” Jane shook her head as she started turning to walk away, “I can easily force your mouth open.

Jane giggled, “How frightening.” She responded while walking away. Sherlock followed, finding slight amusement in Jane’s resistance. He thought for a few moments while Jane walked into the kitchen and threw her spoon on the counter. When she entered her sitting room, Jane watched Sherlock carefully from the corner of her eye.

“I could do something very cliché.” Jane raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Cliché?” She muttered as she turned back toward him. Sherlock took a large step forward, making Jane take a step back.

“I’ve only ever seen such silly things such as it in films, but I realize how helpful it could be.” They both took another step, then one more, before Jane found herself against the wall. She smirked slightly while turning her face from Sherlock.

“Clever of you.” She said simply, catching onto Sherlock’s plan. A grin could be caught ghosting over Sherlock’s lips.

“As you should know, I’m a clever person.” He replied as he leaned toward Jane. As Sherlock brought his lips to hers, Jane was determined to not give him the response he hoped for; she couldn’t just melt into his kiss as she usually would. Jane couldn’t let it happen, but a voice in the back of her head was saying _‘ha, you’re funny to think you can resist_ that _’_. And that voice was probably right.

Soon, Jane felt Sherlock’s warm lips against hers, kissing her slowly. Jane tried not to move against him or close her eyes, but Sherlock wouldn’t take her resistance—his hand gripped the back of Jane’s neck firmly while he pinned her to the wall. The heat passing between their bodies, made it practically impossible for Jane to concentrate on her current task at hand. She couldn’t stop her lids from folding over her eyes or her hand gliding up Sherlock’s torso to reach into his hair, tugging on the ends. And when Sherlock teasingly licked Jane’s lower lip, she couldn’t hold herself back. Both of her arms came up around his neck as Jane eagerly kissed Sherlock back. A faint smile tried to reach Sherlock’s lips—it was quite difficult to do with them attached to Jane’s—because he won this round.

Quickly, Sherlock found himself thrusting his tongue into Jane’s mouth. A sound of pleasure escaped her as their tongues met and began moving together. Sherlock grew quite intrigued by the feeling of the tongue ring swiping along his tongue, cheeks, and teeth, but he enjoyed the sensation—the metal was cooler on his skin than Jane’s lips, making the kiss anything but ordinary. Since this tongue ring was new, this was also an interesting experience for Jane, who was still adjusting to the feeling of a bar through her tongue, but she loved this kiss just as much (if not more) than all the other kisses they shared.

When Sherlock finally pulled away, Jane gave him a slight look before leaning into his neck and planting small kisses and nips on his white skin. Sherlock was grinning as he held her for a few moments longer, the hand on her lower back rubbing in small circles over her shirt.

“That tongue ring is just lovely; you have a fine, appealing collection of body jewellery.” He said, also referring back to the belly button ring he found on her person a month or so ago. Jane sighed before muttering something, causing Sherlock’s chest to vibrate with a chuckle, “Would you like to share that?” Jane looked up into Sherlock’s eyes.

“Definitely not.” She replied as Sherlock gazed at her with a warm look in his eyes. After seeing his expression, Jane blushed lightly while looking at the ground.

“Well, it’s nice to know you’re not ill.” Sherlock said for a change of topic, “But I would like to know why you wouldn’t come on the case.” Jane shrugged lightly as she continued to lean her weight against Sherlock’s warm chest.

“Believe it or not, I’m still trying to recover from my cold.”

“To do so you ran around all day?”

“Well, I didn’t want to sit at home, but I just didn’t feel like going on the case.” Jane pulled back to look up at him, “And I get bored easily, so I went out and took care of other things on my to-do list.” Sherlock smiled.

“Was this,” He pointed to Jane’s mouth, “just a spur of the moment idea?”

“A little bit; I mean, I’ve wanted a tongue ring for a while and now I thought to do it since I had the time. And I guess it could be considered an early birthday present to myself.” Sherlock’s eyes widen slightly in realization that he hoped Jane didn’t notice (which was a foolish hope, since it was _Jane_ ).

“Oh, yes, your birthday is next week.”

“ _Two_ weeks, Sherlock.” Jane said with a small glare, “Thank you for forgetting.” Sherlock stared blankly before giving her a small smile.

“My apologies?” He said simply, yet unsure, “But, do you remember my—”

“January sixth.” Jane interrupted, “I’m good with dates, Sherlock, and I wouldn’t just forget your birthday—as it’s of some significance to me—as you did of mine.” Sherlock started leaning back toward Jane.

“I don’t need to remember dates, they don’t hold much importance to my career; again, I apologize.” Sherlock planted a row of kisses down Jane’s jaw line toward her neck. Jane let out a sigh.

“You never apologize for anything.” Jane said, sensing his obvious discomfort in ever even needing to apologize to _anyone_ for _anything_.

“Well, now I am.” Sherlock breathed against her flesh. A small smiled tugged at Jane’s lips.

“You’re lucky I like you so much.” Jane said in a way that signified her acceptance of Sherlock’s apology. Sherlock grinned as he pressed another light kiss on Jane’s olive skin while gripping her close to him once more.


	9. Cura in Domas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes comes to a great realization in the few moments he spends alone in Jane Dunn's flat...

Sherlock walked through Jane’s front door while putting away his keys (some time ago he made a copy of Jane’s); she invited him, John, and John’s girlfriend Annie over and Sherlock decided to show up a bit early. When he first entered, Sherlock heard nothing, which most people would interpret as the silence of an empty house, but with further observation, he heard the shower going. Sherlock grinned lightly as he walked into the living room, listening to the running water from the restroom. Sherlock was hoping not to boredly wait, but he knew he’d probably have to find some way to occupy his time.

So, with that in mind, Sherlock wandered toward Jane’s desk. Her desk was quite similar to Sherlock’s: organized chaos. Others probably wouldn’t understand the mess of papers, books, and such, but Jane knew exactly what it all was. Jane’s whole flat was actually like that, for the most part. The way her home was organized was an odd mix of personalities that all took lodging in Jane’s mind; in the kitchen and part of the living room it looked as if they were cleaned by a mother who wanted to at least try to keep things safe for their child while also setting a decent example.

The rest of the place resembled a home rented by university students; it looked on the verge of being homey, but there was a bit too much clutter and boxes to look like much of a real permanent housing. Sherlock would suspect that was due both to Jane’s laziness in the realm of cleaning and her preparedness to move if needed (she never knew when she’d be needed back in Dublin). Some parts of the main area were clean—book shelves, table tops—showing that Jane wanted to try to organize the place, but didn’t take much time to do so.

As Sherlock ventured toward Jane’s bedroom, he could make out a light singing voice coming from the restroom, which caused him to grin widely; that would go on his list of little things he would remember about Jane.

Sherlock stepped into the single bedroom in the small home, which was the messiest part of the place—clothes littered the floor, all table/dresser tops were hidden under a multitude of random objects, and the sheets looked kicked around as if by two people fighting. The one thing that looked remotely organized was the stack of seven pillows at the head of the bed. From Sherlock’s understanding of psychology, he was curious about the pillow count—this grand number suggested some loneliness on Jane’s part. Was she lonely in this home all by herself? Possibly. To his surprise, this thought upset Sherlock more than it should have. How could she be feeling lonely when she always had the company of others, specifically himself?

But Sherlock didn’t want to look into that. So, he took to sitting himself in the large, cozy chair Jane had found at a flea market. Sherlock sank comfortably into the cushion and waited, thinking about all that was found in Jane’s home.

After another few minutes, Jane stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She stared at her face in the mirror’s reflection for a moment, noting that she hadn’t removed all traces of make-up earlier before stepping into the warmth of the shower. Jane took a very short period of time to manage her hair and face before opening the door connecting to her bedroom (she was happy to have found a flat with a bathroom that connected to both the main living area and her bedroom rather than a more expensive place with two bathrooms) and stepping through. Of course, she didn’t expect to see Sherlock’s stoic form seated facing her, so, naturally, she let out a surprised shriek. Jane glared largely as she put a hand over her pounding heart.

“Holmes!” She yelled at him. Sherlock tried to keep a straight face—and he almost succeeded—but a glitter of amusement shined in his eyes, which led to the inevitable Cheshire-like grin to grace his lips. Jane clutched her towel as she continued to calm herself, all the while keeping a glaring expression on Sherlock, “Why do you do that?”

“I was just casually sitting; you should be more prepared and alert for something like this.” Jane groaned as she walked to her wardrobe.

“Well, I apologize for not expecting you to be ahead of schedule,” she said sarcastically, “I’m accustom to you being on time, if not late to arrive.” Jane tightened the towel around her frame then began shuffling through her many shirts hanging in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder at Sherlock, who looked right back at her, still grinning in utter amusement, though he tried to tame his expression, “Do you mind? I need to get dressed.”

“Not at all.” Sherlock replied as he sat back casually. Jane rolled her eyes as she continued digging through her clothes; she didn’t want to let on to Sherlock that he made her feel a little uncomfortable with his analytical gaze watching her exposed form, “Embarrassed?” Sherlock ask after quickly understanding what she was probably thinking. Jane blushed lightly as she threw some clothes on her bed.

“No, but I see no reason for you to sit there and watch me change.” She lied, feeling a little silly for worrying so much; this was _Sherlock_ , he’d hardly be looking at her body. But then again… it was _Sherlock_ , who was equally likely would take note of every aspect of Jane’s figure.

“Oh, please, do you suspect me to stare at you hungrily like a common man would?” Jane quirked her eyebrow as the corner of her mouth twitched to hold back a smile. Sherlock sighed with an eye roll.

“Knowing you, Sherlock, I don’t know what to suspect.”

“Would it please you if I closed my eyes?” Sherlock mocked with a grin. Jane crossed her arms.

“In all honesty, yes.” She replied. Sherlock raised his hands defensively, as Jane’s look was quite menacing. Sherlock shook his head as his hands reached over his eyes.

“Happy?” In response, a pillow was thrown, hitting Sherlock in the shoulder.

Jane rushed to cloth herself, but even that wasn’t enough, as Sherlock had brought it upon himself to peek through his fingers at Jane. Whether out of curiosity or merely to bother Jane (as he knew he wasn’t looking at her in any sort of perverted way), Sherlock felt too much of an urge to keep himself from looking at Jane’s body. And Jane knew he wouldn’t comply to her request, she knew it was unavoidable and practically impossible to actually get Sherlock to listen.

“Sometimes I wonder why I try.” Jane muttered as she turned to Sherlock, who had removed his hands from covering his face. He raised an amused eyebrow at Jane.

“I wonder too.” Sherlock was once more met by a pillow, this time right in the face; maybe that was why she kept so many, in case of an emergency when throwing a pillow at a man’s face was needed. Sherlock chuckled as Jane gave him a stern look.

“Thanks.” She once more muttered, now in a sarcastic tone while quickly marching from the room. Sherlock stood and swiftly followed.

“You _really_ do need to stop with the muttering.” Jane threw a glare over her shoulder.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a pillow.” Sherlock gave her a large smile as he sat himself on her couch while Jane worked to get ready for guests. Sometimes Sherlock wondered why he cared so much for the irritated woman running around the flat, but he didn’t want to further question himself.


	10. A Quaestio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes has something to ask Jane Dunn, but she doesn't respond in the way he expects...

Sherlock and Jane sat together in 221b quietly, keeping the place in almost complete silence; they had been like that for some time. Jane was scribbling away in her notebook while Sherlock sat almost perfectly still, doing nothing but thinking and listening. Neither of them had much reason to say or do anything, so they settled on silence. During this time, Sherlock thought mostly about his only two friends and how many changes they were all going through; John was talking about moving out, but Sherlock liked having someone around. Without John here people would very likely assume that Sherlock had gone insane if he talked to himself in public.

Sherlock sat up a little straighter and looked at Jane; while pushing her bangs out of her face, she shuffled in her seat, kicking her legs over the arm rest of the chair. Sherlock stared for a few moments, which got Jane to look up from her book.

“Can I help you?” She asked in amusement, a small grin playing at her lips. Sherlock continued to stare at her carefully, causing Jane to raise an eyebrow, “Sherlock?”

“You knew John was thinking about moving out, correct?” Jane nodded slowly.

“He mentioned it a couple of times; why?” Sherlock stayed silent, “You’d miss him if he left.” Jane smiled slightly.

“I’d hardly say that—”

“Oh, don’t try lying to me.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “You can admit to it, Sherlock, I wouldn’t judge you for missing anyone… even if it was Mycroft.” This statement got Sherlock to smile slightly, “So, you’d miss John; what are you getting at by bringing it up?”

“Well… like you said, I’d miss him; I do actually get lonely here on my own. I would look into getting a new flatmate, but what are the chances of me finding someone even remotely tolerable?”

“I’d say about—”

“Shut up.” Jane gave Sherlock a grin. He watched Jane with a raised eyebrow for a moment before his eyes brightened with an idea, “Move in with me.”

Jane looked a little surprised, “Wow, Sherlock, you’re taking things pretty quickly for my liking.” She replied sarcastically. Sherlock looked at her with a serious expression, causing Jane’s eyes to widen, “You’re serious?”

“Of course I am; do you not like the idea?” Jane began looking around the room in thought as Sherlock waited for an answer.

“Well… kind of.” A confused expression came across Sherlock’s features, “It’s not your fault or anything, I just don’t entirely feel comfortable with the idea.”

Sherlock sat forward in his chair, “You know I won’t treat you terribly or just disappear.”

“It’s not that.” Jane’s tone took on a bit more of an excitable volume, “it’s more just the thought of living with someone.” Sherlock stared for a few moments, “I’m used to being alone… I’m comfortable with being alone.”

“As am I, but I like having you around; you’re a much better substitute for my skull than John is.” Jane laughed lightly.

“So, I’m just a substitute to you?” She joked before growing serious again.

“No, Jane… you’re much better than that skull.” Sherlock smiled lightly.

“I still don’t know—”

“We’ve gone through so much together; I don’t see why you’re so hesitant.” Jane raised an eyebrow, “I’ve known you for almost a year and a half—in February, it will be that—”

“You’ve kept track?”

“No, John’s blog did.” Jane nodded slightly while rolling her eyes, “For a year and one month—” Jane was a little surprised at his accuracy, as Sherlock didn’t see the importance in knowing the dates of such little things, “I’ve actually enjoyed your company. Last New Year’s, when you drunkenly kissed John, I realized I felt slight jealousy.”

Jane blushed, “What are you getting at?”

“Let me finish; about eleven months ago, you kissed me—good God, I felt different, that was a changing experience. Ten months—you got me to drink; you _almost_ got me drunk, but I, admittedly, had a fantastic time. Eight months ago I found out you were a mother with an… interesting daughter.” Jane couldn’t say anything as she stared on surprised, “Seven months ago, I went to Ireland because I missed you—and Harley, of course. And let’s not forget the multiple times we bickered, when I lecture you about how boring your name was, when you kicked my ass to prove you had fighting skills.” Jane and Sherlock both chuckled at the memories.

“Sherlock,” Jane stood and began walking toward him, “I understand all we’ve been through, but—”

“And just last month I realized how much I care about you.” Jane froze, “So, please take all this into consideration.” The two silently stared at each other as Jane tried to make a decision and Sherlock waited for an answer.

Jane was in a state of shock, so to say; it could have been because Sherlock cared enough to remember the general time frame of their time together or because he was sharing all this, showing a greater deal of emotion than usual. Or maybe both. The fact of the matter was Jane’s hesitation. She was always so accustom to spending time alone and living alone that she was almost frightened to agree to sharing a flat with Sherlock. But she had grown so close to him in the short year of knowing him and she felt she had grown a stronger bond with Sherlock than anyone she knew before.

After another moment of thought, Jane stepped toward Sherlock again, stopping a couple feet from him, “I’m really just not sure.” Sherlock sighed largely and threw up his arms.

“ _Why?_ ” He insisted and also stood, “Neither of us are the best with others, but we get along perfectly; I can’t see why you don’t want to move in.” Sherlock brought himself to stand mere inches from Jane, who stared away from his eyes, opting to look at his chest instead; she felt as if Sherlock was angry at her for not jumping on the idea of living with him, “You don’t have anything to worry about…” Sherlock’s eyes brightened some, “and there would be more room here for Harley to move in than your current home.” Jane’s eyes widened slightly; Sherlock knew pulling the Harley card would definitely grab Jane’s attention. Slowly, she looked up at his face.

“You would let a four year old live here?” She asked surprised; Sherlock grinned lightly as he thought it over.

“Once John moves out, yes.”

“And when would that happen?”

“Whenever John feels like leaving.” Sherlock watched Jane patiently as she looked away again.

“…If I agreed, I wouldn’t move in until then, right?” She asked.

“No,” Jane turned her eyes back to Sherlock’s, “if you wanted to you could move in tomorrow.” A smile teased to grace Jane’s red lips.

“Where would I sleep, then?” Sherlock gave her a look that said ‘ _what a silly question.’_

“I’d give you my room; when do I ever sleep?” Jane’s eyes widened slightly.

“I still don’t—”

“Jane,” Sherlock grabbed hold of Jane’s arms, “just say yes.”

“’Yes’ to what?” the two looked up to the doorway where John and Mrs. Hudson—who was smiling lightly (she always jumped to her silly little conclusions)—stood watching. Jane’s eyes widened slightly at the two—she never heard them enter—as Sherlock looked between everyone calmly for a moment.

“Jane is moving in.” He said while stepping away from her. As John looked on a little surprised and Mrs. Hudson smiled gleefully, Jane threw a large glare at Sherlock.

“Really, dear? It would be splendid to have you here.” Mrs. Hudson said as John walked into the kitchen to set down the groceries he carried.

“I never agreed to that.” Sherlock sat back in his chair as Jane walked up to him.

“Which room; you couldn’t be staying here in ‘b’ with us?” John added, ignoring Jane’s prior statement.

“No, I—”

“Then you’d be sharing with Sherlock, wouldn’t you?” Mrs. Hudson’s smile grew, “Isn’t this exciting?” Jane groaned loudly as Sherlock grinned widely at her. Jane pointed at Sherlock, glaring once more.

“You see what you do?”

“I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.”

“Ooh, sharing a room,” John mocked as he leaned on the kitchen door frame, “Aren’t you two just moving along in this relationship swimmingly.”

Now, Jane turned to glare at John, “No, that is _not_ what’s happening; I’m _not_ moving in.” Jane received a confused look from Mrs. Hudson, “Holmes thought he could decide for me.”

“No, you made the decision, I just said it out loud.” Jane and Sherlock looked at each other for a few moments.

“Then, pray tell, how did you know whether or not I’d say yes?” Everyone’s attention was on Sherlock.

“It was obvious, the only reason you didn’t say anything was because you were scared that things wouldn’t go according to plan once you moved in.” Jane opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, realizing that Sherlock was right, “Not everything has to go how you originally planned.” The room was silent for a few moments.

“We’d be happy to have you here, dear.” Mrs. Hudson finally said. Jane looked toward the kind old woman, “Besides, we’ve been waiting for this, John and I.” Jane’s forehead crinkled in confusion.

“Sorry, what?”

“John and myself have been expecting you to move in eventually; it was only a matter of time.” Jane heard Sherlock chuckle lightly from behind her and she turned to him.

“Something funny about this?”

“They knew this would happen before we did.” He replied simply. Jane quickly understood the humour he found in it and her mouth twitched into a slight smirk.

“We can help you get packed and moved in by the end of the week.” John said with a smile. Jane shook her head at him.

“Guys, I still haven’t said yes to this.”

“Doesn’t matter; we’re making this happen.” John replied. Jane looked toward Sherlock again, trying to glare, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be angry; these people here were her _friends_. They cared for her and enjoyed her company so much that they wanted her _living_ with them. This was a feeling that warmed Jane’s heart (to her slight distaste) and she just smiled largely at everyone.

“Fine, tomorrow I’m putting you lot to work packing my things.” Jane went to sit on the couch as Sherlock and John gave her a similarly confused look.

“Us? You won’t be doing anything?” John questioned.

“Well, it was _your_ idea.”


	11. In fato adgressi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Jane wanted was to lose Sherlock, but now it seems that her fear is coming too soon...

Jane swiftly turned down a new street with wide eyes scanning the area around her; something was definitely not right, she could feel it. So much had been going on in her once small world—she, Sherlock, and John had gained the public’s eyes and had begun to deal with a much greater number of cases and criminals—it all seemed a little overwhelming. And right now was probably the worst moment of them all. Now, the trio was in the hands of Moriarty. One of the greatest minds in the world, and they were practically at his mercy.

This is why Jane was running. Not from Moriarty (who could actually imagine him chasing after anyone while wearing those expensive shoes?) or any of the frightening goons he’s hired to do his dirty work, but rather running _to_ him. More specifically to Sherlock. Jane figured out where Sherlock disappeared to after the never ending catastrophe of recent events and knew it wasn’t right; she had a strange feeling that whatever was going on was _not_ good. Not in the slightest. So, Jane chose to also put herself in the possible line of danger without a glance back. Which led her to where she was now.

When Jane reached the busy street, she looked around frantically without a care for the other people around her; Sherlock was the important thing right now, not these strangers. Jane had to find him and help him before something happened to the public or to himself.

As Jane went to cross the street, she looked up toward the sunlight and tall building tops. Then she stopped. She was in the middle of an intersection and had horns blaring at her from all directions, which caused Jane to throw out a few insults that shouldn’t be repeated, before she found her way back to the pavement and looked up again to the spot that caught her eye. To be sure she wasn’t catching some strange glare, Jane removed her sunglasses and stared back at the rooftop that had the suspicious figure stood upon it. Sure enough, though, what she saw was no illusion. Jane’s eyes widened as she saw Sherlock looking over the building’s edge. In a frenzy, Jane started running towards it, but was stopped by traffic (she was lucky to have been paying just enough attention to her surroundings, or she would have been hit by a car), forcing her to stay away from the building.

“Sherlock!” Jane called as she cupped her hands around her mouth for a greater projection of her voice. Sherlock looked toward her with an empty expression, but with a tinge of fear that couldn’t be seen from Jane’s distance. The two stared at each other for a few moments before Jane began to move back toward the buildings. But Sherlock was just as quick and had already pulled out his mobile and pressed her speed dial. After only one ring—a surprise to Sherlock, as Jane _always_ waited till her phone rang three times—Jane answered.

“Don’t come any closer to this building.” Jane froze for only a moment.

 “Sherlock, I came to help you, just let me.” Jane began jogging again as Sherlock groaned in panic.

“Jane, stay where you are or you _will die!”_ He pushed. Jane could practically feel his worry and froze, “You can’t do anything to help me.” Jane glared up at him.

“I came to _help_ ; don’t think I won’t bec—”

“Dammit, Jane!” Sherlock spat in a tone Jane had never heard before; she could hear fear, anger, confusion, control, hate, and… love? This was a tone no one but Sherlock could even begin to think to be able to portray, and it became quickly evident to Jane that she had to listen, “ _Don’t you dare_ come nearer—I’m handling this and cannot let you become involved. It would do neither of us good if you tried.” Jane exhaled shakily as she looked back up toward Sherlock from her place just across the street.

“What’s going on…?” She asked slowly. Sherlock almost smiled at her question—she wasn’t often stuck in the dark, after all—but the pressure of the situation kept him entirely serious; time was running out and something had to be done.

“Jane, I can’t explain it to you.” He replied simply as he looked all around himself at each building before his eyes settled back on Jane’s form so many feet from him, “Explaining would do us no good anyway.” Jane wrapped an arm around herself as he eyes stayed on Sherlock.

“What of Moriarty?” She then asked, “You _must_ explain something of this situation.” Sherlock let out a sigh.

“I can’t at all.” Jane stared for a few more moments before her eyes widened; she had pieced everything together—their location, Sherlock’s behaviour, previous events, Moriarty’s (apparent) absence.

“Oh God, Sherlock, don’t do what I think you will.” She suddenly insisted with a thick panic in her voice, _“You can’t.”_

“I have to.” He said simply as he looked at the ground below him, “I have to do this… for everyone. For you.” Jane tensed. ‘For you.’ _‘For you.’_ There was so much to be said with those two words. So much that never would be said. They had so many opportunities in the past to exchange everything their hearts ever felt and now they ran out of all future chances. “Jane, look around you; _really_ look.” Jane automatically did as she was told, taking a quick look at everything, but caught what Sherlock wanted her to see; the man sat suspiciously in the window, waiting for _something_ , “If I don’t do this… then he will act; I can’t let him do that.”

Jane’s breath was heavy now, shaking in a very panicked way. She suddenly felt weak. Too weak. She realized that now her emotions were set to their maximum and it frightened her. Jane wanted to break down, but she couldn’t do that. Not in front of all these people. _Not_ in front of Sherlock.

“Now you have to let me do this.” Jane choked back a sob at hearing that. Sherlock swallowed loudly at the sound that Jane’s choking made in his ear; he could hardly stand this. She wanted to let all these emotions out, but refused to. Sherlock could say he was a little thankful for that, but her struggle to keep calm was just as bad. Sherlock knew he couldn’t just leave her without a… “proper” goodbye, but he could hardly bring himself to continue, “Please don’t panic anymore; continue to keep on this strong front. Harley—” Sherlock practically choke; he was leaving behind that great little four year old he’s grown to enjoy, “—she needs you.” Jane bit her lip, “Not only her, but John will. And who else will be the _real_ brains in the Dublin, Liverpool, _and_ London investigative world if you don’t stay strong?” Both grinned sadly at the statement. Jane was virtually in tears now and couldn’t control herself much anymore.

“But what will we do without the greatest mind in all of the UK?” She asked slowly and shakily, gasping back any unneeded tears or hiccups.

“I believe that’s you.” Sherlock replied, making Jane’s eyes widen—Sherlock had never been one for complementing others.

“Sherlock, I—” Jane stopped; the tears were coming and couldn’t be stopped. With her other hand, Jane covered her face, but it would hardly do her any good since Sherlock could hear every little violent gasp she took through the ear piece of his phone. Sherlock could feel a strong pain in the base of his throat which he couldn’t rid himself of. He took in a heavy breath as he listened to Jane’s light sobs.

“Jane, I am so sorry…” Sherlock muttered, which Jane just barely heard. Sherlock looked over the edge of the building. He slowly stepped up, with his toes hanging just over the edge. Jane gasped loudly as she bit down on her knuckle, watching Sherlock with wide, tear filled eyes. A string of _‘no’_ s could be heard over the phone in a frantic, muffled tone as the couple looked each other in the eye.

 _‘You really need to work on your mumbling.’_ Sherlock thought with a twitch of a grin, wanting to say it to lighten the situation and make Jane smile one last time, but the weight of the moment was already too much and couldn’t be lightened.

 “I… Jane Dunn… I love you.” And with that, Sherlock leaned over the edge. A scream was heard from Jane who stood in complete shock, both at his statement and at seeing the man she also loved falling to his death. Sherlock once more apologized quietly as the ground became increasingly close.

Jane’s eyes were wide as she stared ahead of her at nothing particular but the building Sherlock just descended from. After a few moments, movement came back to her and she ran faster than she ever had before, avoiding all traffic (both human and vehicle) to reach Sherlock’s limp form. As she came to his side, others did also, but Jane hardly took any notice of them. As she sobbed loudly, Jane put a hand on Sherlock’s bloody cheek; he was _gone. Dead._ The mere thought destroyed Jane, but seeing him there in front of her practically killed her.

She was alone again.

* * *

 

Jane was like an empty shell. She felt incomplete and entirely alone. She had been like this for weeks. Jane became worse than she had ever been before; she refused to leave Baker Street for anything. Jane took no cases, calls, saw no one (aside from Mrs. Hudson, who every once and a while tried to help her in some way), and even told the McGinnis’ to keep Harley with them for some extra time, saying something very important came up, but refused to go into greater detail. She was entirely alone again. She thought Sherlock (the name was painful to think of) was the permanent thing in her life now. She was wrong. Like everything else good in Jane’s life, he was taken from her.

John wanted to leave Baker Street quickly after Sherlock’s unexpected death, and that’s just what he did. He obviously took recovery time—and time to at least try to help Jane—but once he felt ready, he packed up and left. Jane was destined to be alone, she assumed. The string of events in her life supported that theory all too greatly. Jane would just have to get used to being alone once more and probably keep it that way. It was probably best to leave Harley with her “adoptive” family.

She was hardly helping herself, though. Jane didn’t move anything of Sherlock’s from the flat; most everything stayed in its place. From the violin to the jar of thumbs, nothing ever left the room it belonged in. All this behaviour was a mistake in Jane’s mind—she knew psychology pretty well, so she understood how bad her decisions are—but she couldn’t stop herself. Well, rather, start herself, it should be put. Jane was almost mind-set on letting herself rot away in the flat, but couldn’t bring herself to let it happen. No matter how bad she was, she couldn’t bring herself to allow her life to end. She was still needed, whether she liked it or not. And she stayed for Sherlock. Dying now would be like letting him down and Jane was done with being a disappointment to someone so important in her life. It could be said Sherlock’s dying wish was to see Jane stay strong and do great things, but she did neither. But that couldn’t be his dying wish. It could be a wish.

Sherlock was anything but dead.

 

 


End file.
